


Unlikely Places

by ara_chan



Series: Unlikely Places Universe [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Deathly Hallows Fix, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, HP: EWE, M/M, Slow Burn - Snarry, w.i.p.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-02 07:21:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10212440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ara_chan/pseuds/ara_chan
Summary: Severus Snape refused to let something as trivial as death stop him from helping to ensure the Dark Lord's downfall. Beginning with the Battle of Hogwarts, the first part of the story is about Snape and Harry's relationship building from enemies to friends as Harry completes his final year at school. The second part follows the growth of their friendship into something more while Harry tries to decide what it is that he wants to do with his life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is also a [companion piece](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10208339) that details snapshots of Snape's life from beginning Hogwarts as a student, to joining Voldemort, to spying on the Dark Lord during his second rise to power.

In the years that had followed the rise of Voldemort to power some two decades ago, Severus Snape had had more than ample opportunity to imagine how it would feel to be killed by the Dark Lord. The Cruciatus curse was only one of the many excruciatingly painful forms of torture that he had anticipated preceding his eventual demise. As much as he had hoped to avoid such a fate, Snape had always known that such would be his punishment for the mistakes of his youth. And yet, in all the scenarios that had played out in his mind, Snape had never imagined that he would be disposed of by a snake. It was somewhat insulting that Voldemort couldn't even be bothered to execute him personally.

Even more bizarre than the anticlimactic cause of his death was the fact that he woke up again after it. While he had never been predisposed to contemplate what the afterlife might be like, if he had, the notion that it might appear like the dungeons of Hogwarts would most certainly never have crossed his mind. Regardless, Snape awoke to find himself on the floor of a stretch of corridor with which he was very familiar. He had spent more than half his life walking those very halls, yet Snape could no more imagine how he could have gotten from the Shrieking Shack to the dungeons than he could puzzle out why "the beyond" would resemble Hogwarts.

Trying to stand caused his vision to swim. His limbs were sluggish to respond as if weighed down, but the fear of what would happen should Voldemort be victorious allowed him to pull himself up to his feet. The hall was eerily silent for there to be a battle raging around the school, but what concerned Snape the most was the total absence of any pain. A general numbness permeated his body; beyond that, he couldn't feel anything wrong. His hands flew up to his throat, but he couldn't find any marks to indicate that he had been attacked. Closing his eyes, Snape shook his head to remove the fog from his mind. 

When he opened them again, his vision was clearer, but what he saw still didn't make any sense. A thick mist was rolling along the floor and obscuring his feet. Taking a few tentative steps forward, he peered cautiously into the open doorway of the room nearest him. The classroom was unmistakable. If it wasn't Hogwarts, then the room was a perfect replica. He had spent seven years of his life as a student sitting in it and another sixteen as a teacher, forced to carry on while surrounded by incompetents, morons, and traitors. No matter how much he loved the art of Potions, that room was his personal prison, with its rows of insolent students who never listened, didn't respect him, and couldn't be arsed to think for themselves. Finding that cold, damp room to be brightly lit and full of smiling children made Snape's mouth drop open. 

"Impossible," he whispered as he watched the rows of youngsters laughing amongst themselves. He knew for a fact that all but a few of the oldest students had been escorted from the grounds because of the Dark Lord, and even if they had remained, none of them would have looked so happy about their fate. Adding to his confusion was the fact that not a sound of their conversations or mirth made it out of the room into the hall where Snape stood.

A dark-haired, plump face caught his eye. 

"Crabbe? Mr Crabbe, come over here!" When the boy didn't acknowledge his order, Snape moved to step through the portal. A cold weight settled in the pit of his stomach, and he couldn't bring himself to cross the threshold. Eyes narrowing, Snape paused to take a closer look at the boy, and his brow furrowed in confusion at what he saw. Crabbe's face was rounder and softer, no longer the man that he had been growing into. Impossible as it seemed, Crabbe looked even younger than Snape remembered him being when he first came to Hogwarts. The scowl that usually darkened his face was gone, giving the boy an appearance of childlike innocence. 

A sudden understanding of where he most likely was filled him with dread, and Snape began to scan the crowd in desperation to find signs of either Goyle or Malfoy. None of the three boys would have gone anywhere alone. He had worked so hard to keep them out of trouble. The thought that they had also died fighting because of his failure was a terrifying one. He had already failed Lily and Albus; to have failed Draco as well, after he had sworn to Narcissa that he would protect her son, was repugnant.

Without thinking, Snape beat his fist against the stone doorframe, still trying to get Crabbe's attention. Absently, he noted that it didn't hurt him as it should have. He still couldn't bring himself to enter the room, so he was reduced to yelling. "Vincent Crabbe, answer me!"

The vacant, slight smile the boy wore never wavered; the boy didn't so much as flinch as his former head of house slammed his palm against the doorframe again and again. For his part, Snape was so intent on getting the boy's attention that he didn't notice the silent figure behind him until Dedalus Diggle was nearly on top of him. 

While Snape didn't particularly care for him, he couldn't help acknowledging that the little man had been a long-standing and valuable member of the Order. "Diggle, what happened? Is the Dark Lord still winning, or has the Order manage to push him back? Is Potter still safe?"

Dozens of questions wanted to spill from Severus' lips, but he could only watch as Diggle breezed past him, completely ignoring him. Then the strangest thing happened: the tiny man that crossed the threshold was not the person who seated himself in the classroom. The years that had greyed his hair and etched deep lines onto his face melted away, leaving only a shyly smiling boy of approximately ten, with a too-large, purple top hat on his head.

Before he could attempt any further acts of communication, another person lumbered forward through the misty length of hallway. As he drew nearer, Severus recognized the blank face of a blond Death Eater. Anderson was his name -- a new recruit, only with them for a couple of weeks. Stepping back, Severus felt a sort of horrified curiosity as an especially short blond boy skipped down one aisle of desks to seat himself alongside Crabbe. Immediately, the two boys struck up an animated conversation as if they had been the best of friends all their lives. 

"Tonks!" The feisty young woman was next to appear from the misty borders of the bizarre setting, and Snape began to feel a rising sense of panic. "Tonks, what's happened? Diggle, he came... here... Blast it all, why can no one _hear_ me -- Nymphadora!"

Not even the hated use of her full and proper name was enough to rouse the woman from her zombie-like state. The frustration of it all was enough to make Severus want to scream. Since he didn't know what was wrong with them, he couldn't begin to attempt a counterjinx against whatever was clearly affecting everyone else. 

Grabbing her by the neck of her robes, Snape fully intended to shake her into awareness if she wouldn't pay attention to him. He pulled her close enough to him that Tonks had to face him rather than continuing on into the classroom. "Wake _up_ ," he growled at her angrily. 

"That won't work, I'm afraid, Severus."

The sound of another voice behind him startled Snape into releasing his hold on Tonks, who moved on as if nothing had stopped her in the first place. Unfortunately, Snape felt a crushing sense of certainty that there was no longer any question as to where he was. Either he had finally done enough to make amends, or this was what hell was truly like: eternity as an outsider, with all the other children laughing and having fun while he was denied everything. Not that he had the slightest intention of walking through that door. 

Both Death Eaters and members of the Order sat in that room. Too many were suffering while he stood around like an ignorant prat bemoaning his fate. Turning around with as much poise as he could muster, given the circumstances, Snape said, "Albus. You look surprisingly well. All things considered."

"Yes, death has been quite good to me." The smile turning up the corners of the former headmaster's mouth reached all the way to his eyes, brightening them in a way that Snape hadn't seen in years. However, a sudden heaviness came over his features, turning his expression bittersweet. "It's such a pity that you've had to suffer such a hard life in order to enjoy this well-deserved rest."

Unable to believe what he was hearing, Snape affected a deep scowl and said incredulously, "Rest? There's no time for such things! The Dark Lord has the Elder Wand, and it's only a matter of time until he discovers the reason it doesn't work for him. Then he'll be unstoppable -- even against Potter."

"My dear boy, you must trust in the others to handle things from here." The old wizard gave Snape's shoulder a fond pat. "You may not think much of him, but Harry is growing into a fine man. And he isn't alone; there are others to help him along his path."

"Pardon my saying so, _sir_ , but the 'others' are dropping like flies. None of them stand a chance against the Dark Lord." Snape gestured to the classroom behind him. There were easily forty desks already filled, and more forms were already shuffling nearer, still obscured in the mist. "How could I possibly just give up now and 'rest' when he is so close to winning?"

Dumbledore gave a small chuckle at the sincerity in the other man's voice. "I should think that death would absolve you from any other responsibility in this matter. But even if it didn't, what do you think you could do as you are now?"

Shaking his head with an almost desperate determination, Snape replied, "I refuse to believe that _this_ is what the 'Great Beyond' holds in store. Even if it were, I can't stay here. I told you before that I wouldn't let Potter be served up to the Dark Lord like a fatted calf. That damned fool brat will need all the help he can get."

It was infuriating, the way that Dumbledore's smile only broadened at Snape's remarks. "I thought you didn't care for Harry," he said in a tone that implied otherwise.

In response, Snape drew himself up to his full height and leveled a look of disgust at the former headmaster. "Harry Potter has been nothing but an exceptional pain in the backside since the day he and his little friends showed up at Hogwarts, and I still wish that you would have allowed me to expel them for their idiotic stunt with that flying car. But be that as it may, none of them deserves what the Dark Lord has in store for them." The heat left his voice, and Snape's shoulders slumped as he added quietly, "I already failed you. I can't let them down as well."

"You never failed me, Severus. Rather, I'm the one who let you down." Dumbledore drew nearer to rest both hands on Snape's shoulders. "No, dear boy, you did more than should have been asked of anyone. I had hoped that at least Minerva would have believed me when I said that I had placed my trust in you implicitly... They might not understand, Severus, but I know how hard you've worked to make things right by Lily. You can't think that she would ever want you to endanger your soul to help Harry."

Instinct told him to shrug off the touch and to snarl back with a sarcastic remark, but Snape held himself in check. Even after all the time that had passed, he still found himself wanting Dumbledore's good opinion. 

"What I'm doing has nothing to do with Lily Potter," he replied as evenly as possible. "I did _not_ spend half my life teaching these idiot children in order for them to end up like this. And if I had been allowed to instruct them properly instead of watching buffoons like _Lockhart_ nearly get half the school killed, maybe Potter wouldn't be so close to getting himself blown up now."

As soon as he'd said it, Snape regretted his words. Dumbledore was looking at him with hurt in his eyes, and it made him feel as guilty as a misbehaving first-year. For his part, Dumbledore nodded slowly and released his hold on Snape's shoulders. "If it is your wish to go back, far be it from me to try to stop you," he stated as he withdrew a step from the other man's personal space. "Although I'm afraid that I won't be able to help you this time if the Ministry doesn't believe in your innocence."

"Then I suppose there is one advantage to this situation." Snape's face was as neutral as he could keep it while feeling terrified. "They can't put me on trial if I'm already dead."

"Before you make your choice, keep in mind that those who are meant to be here and depart are seldom able to find their way back."

"Then that's a risk I'll have to take. Potter isn't the only one in danger, and I promised Narcissa that I would keep Draco safe. Hell, the whole bloody _world_ is doomed if the Dark Lord gets all the Deathly Hallows. Who knows, maybe I can convince some of the Slytherins to help, or at least to stay out of it. A few bodies' difference may be all the Order needs to rally their own forces."

Dumbledore opened his mouth to reply, but his words were silenced as one of the Weasley boys shambled down the hall past them. Closing his eyes, the old wizard hung his head with a pained expression. "There's still so much I'd like to tell you, Severus, but I suppose there's nothing that can't wait a little while longer. Nothing except to say that I'm sorry. I can't tell you how sorry I am that I made you feel like you had no other options than turning to Tom for acceptance."

Snape was about to correct him, saying that his choices had been his own fault, but the mist that had been swirling about his ankles began to thicken and rise. "What's happening?"

"I'll try my best to make it all up to you," was Dumbledore's cryptic response as he stepped further away from Snape. "I only hope you don't end up regretting your decision..."

The old wizard's voice faded more and more with every word as Severus' vision dimmed. His limbs began to grow heavier, and he had to struggle not to fall to the ground. His brain insisted that he needed to move, to get away from whatever was closing in on him, but each attempt to move sent waves of pain through his body until the greying world turned black.

The next thing that Snape was aware of was a peculiar hissing sound, more akin to steam than to the sibilant sounds of Voldemort's pet. Curious as to what it could be, he attempted to open his eyes and take in his surroundings. Unfortunately, doing so sent waves of nausea through him. As his stomach attempted to resettle, Snape realized that the sound had stopped and had been replaced by a gentle nudging at his arm. When the pressure became more insistent, Snape tried to wave off whatever it was that was pushing at him. 

A drop of moisture fell onto his face, and it helped bring Snape around faster. He squinted again, more successfully this time. There was another angry hiss as the bead of liquid traveled down his cheek and rolled along the length of his neck. A purplish smoke rose from his wounds in curls as the phoenix tears did their work, drawing Nagini's venom from his body.

"Fawkes?" Reaching out a trembling hand, Snape laid the gentlest of touches on the bird's side. Part of him was terrified that to do so would send the phoenix to flight, but even stronger was the need to prove to himself that it was real and not an illusion. With a soft coo, Fawkes leaned into the touch and nuzzled Snape's hand, nipping at his fingers affectionately. 

"Thank you," he said softly. There wasn't time to properly show his gratitude; he still needed to find out what was happening at the school. Giving a silent word of thanks to Dumbledore as well, Snape rolled over onto his hands and knees. The effort needed to do even that much left him panting to catch his breath. Apparently, there was a limit to the magic that even a phoenix was capable of performing. Fawkes gave an alarmed cry when Snape tried to rise, and he snapped his beak at Snape to express his displeasure. "There's no time. I'm sorry, but I need to find Potter before he gets himself killed."

Talking proved to be as much of an exertion as climbing to his feet, and the weight of his robes was like an anchor pulling him back down. His hands shook as he fumbled with the numerous buttons and fastenings until he was able to shrug off both the cumbersome robe and the frockcoat that he wore. Exhausted just from that, Snape collapsed to the floor once more, uncaring that he was lying in a pool of his own blood.

" _Accio_ wand," he wheezed, stretching out his arm to catch his wand as it flew towards him. Without wasting any time, he cast spell after spell on himself to negate the ill effects of toying with death. He would pay dearly for each of them later, but until he could get to the Infirmary for a potion or two, delaying the inevitable was all that he could do.

Fawkes watched with disapproval at his use of the Dark Arts to stave off the repercussions of so much blood loss. Just being alive and not a ghost was a miracle. When his breathing had returned to normal, Snape managed to push himself upright again. To pacify the unhappy phoenix, Snape said, "I promise to do my best not to make your efforts be in vain, but stopping the Dark Lord is more important."

Fortunately, the sea of Death Eaters, giants, and shambling corpses between himself and Hogwarts didn't know that Voldemort had wanted him dead. The only real obstacle between the Shrieking Shack and the doors of the castle would be the very people he was hoping to protect.

*****

Draco frowned down at the mahogany wand in his hand. His mother had given him her wand to replace the one that had been taken from him, but that, too, had been lost during the heated battle raging throughout the castle. The wand currently in his hand had been taken from the grasp of a fallen Death Eater, and it clearly wasn't fond of him. Draco had never imagined that things would turn out as they had. When the Dark Lord had declared that the students had an hour to present Potter to him, Draco had expected some resistance before the other boy's body was inevitably offered up by the student body to save their own lives. People were dying in droves, either in an attempt to kill Potter or to save him.

The castle shook as another blast hit it. 

His father had told him that the Dark Lord had the giants on his side in addition to dementors and inferii. They had been hurling boulders, trees, and anything else they could get their hands on, in order to take down the castle's walls. The sound of crumbling stone and twisting metal frightened Draco enough to drive him into an unlit alcove of the corridor. Crouching there, he covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut tightly. He didn't want to fight, but no amount of wishing would send him back home, either. There was no way to simply walk out of the school. Potter's lot would inevitably label him as another Death Eater, and Goyle had abandoned him when Draco had refused to regroup with the others. Fighting was what had gotten Crabbe killed, but there didn't seem to be any way to avoid it.

The sounds of battle were coming nearer, momentarily causing Draco to question his hiding place. Unfortunately, he was in the middle of a lengthy stretch of hall. If he left the alcove in either direction, he would be completely exposed in the corridor. As much as he didn't want to be a part of the fray that was going on all around him, a part of Draco rebelled at the indignation of cowering in the rubble like some peasant. All his life, he had been taught that Malfoys should present themselves with dignity and poise, no matter what the situation. Malfoys didn't cower. Yet ever since the Dark Lord had returned, it seemed as if that was all they had been doing. His whole life had been nothing but a string of disappointing failures. Even killing Dumbledore, which should have been a triumphant victory, felt just as empty and hollow now as it had a year ago. Perhaps that was why the Dark Lord had never truly forgiven any of them, perhaps he knew that Lucius only wished to be as far away from him as possible and that Draco had never taken any pleasure in the old man's death.

 _Suppose I'm lucky we all weren't killed already,_ he thought morosely. The sounds of the battle came even closer, and Draco swore softly to himself. 

Too long. He had dallied too long, and now the fighting had spread too near his hiding place. So far, no one had noticed him, but that didn't mean that a stray curse wouldn't get shot in his direction. Without any cover of their own, the Weasley girl and what looked like Longbottom didn't stand any chance. They could only block for so long, and the two were steadily being pushed back closer to where he hid. A bolt of red light hit Ginny, and she gave a scream of pain before falling down. Neville returned with a cry of anger and managed -- probably by accident -- to disarm one of his three attackers. His other  
jinxes went wild from the shaking of his hand, though it wasn't from fear. Draco had never seen the other boy look so unafraid in his life; he was simply outclassed and beyond angry. Longbottom had been one of the first to stand up in protest of the Dark Lord. He hadn't hidden behind his family, cringing all year as Draco had. Even as he had been beaten and tortured, Longbottom had borne his new scars proudly. It made Draco feel sick inside, that a Malfoy should be bested by a Longbottom and a Weasley.

 _"Petrificus Totalus!"_ Draco watched in amazement at the mahogany wand, which had thus far delighted in not doing as it was instructed, struck its target with practiced accuracy. Both Death Eaters rocked in place slightly, carried by the momentum of their advance to crash in a stiff heap, face-first on the flagstones. 

"Huh... Actually worked." Draco held up the wand to examine, completely baffled by it.

Neville, however, wasted no time in whipping around to stand protectively in front of Ginny as she tried to regain her footing. The two boys pointed their wands at each other, and for a long, tense moment, silence stretched between them. Sounds of combat could be heard from all around them, but neither moved, each unwilling to lower his wand before the other. 

For a moment, Draco allowed his eyes to leave Neville's to look past him to Ginny. "All right there, Weasley?"

"Hurts like hell, but I'll be fine." She wiped her hands on the legs of her trousers before collecting her wand. "Thanks for that," she added, giving the nearest Death Eater a sharp kick in the side.

"Yeah, well, you should probably get back to helping your friends. It doesn't sound like they're doing so well."

Neville's wand lowered slightly in his confusion. "Could say the same about you."

Taking a chance, Draco lowered his pilfered wand and tucked it in the waistband of his trousers. When neither made a move against him, he slowly made his way to retrieve the wands of the three Death Eaters. One of them _had_ to work better than the one he had. Giving one a small flick, he found the results much more satisfying and pocketed the lot of them.

"I'm only interested in finding my parents and getting out of here," he stated, figuring he owed Potter one less favor now. Maybe the rest could even be repaid on his way out. Owing anything to his sort was most distasteful. "Haven't seen them by any chance, have you?"

Neville shook his head in shock, looking to Ginny for guidance. While he didn't mind the change, it was certainly unexpected. For years, Draco had gone out of his way to pick fights with them. His current civility was rather unsettling. Ginny didn't seem to know what to make of it any more than he did. 

"Not up here," she replied, still rubbing at the sore spot on her side. "Maybe they're near the front doors if they're as eager as you are to leave?"

"I tried there first, which is why I started working my way up."

"Well, we just came from up, and unless they're in one of the towers, they're not upstairs. Maybe they went outside?" Ginny moved to follow Draco to the nearest window. Giants, dementors, inferii, and acromantula were all swarming the grounds, fighting centaurs and house elves. "Maybe not."

Draco's face fell. "I hope not. There's a much better way out of here than the front door."

"You know a way out?"

"Of course," Draco looked offended. "The vanishing cabinet. It goes to Knockturn Alley, but since everyone _there_ is _here_ , it's the perfect place to go. Except -- dammit!" He lashed out suddenly, kicking the stone wall and cursing in pain for it.

Neville's hand was on his wand again, but Ginny understood. "The box," she said softly. "It was in the Room of Requirement." 

When Draco nodded, Neville actually laughed. "Then it looks like you're stuck here with the rest of us."

"Lucky me." He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to decide what to do. "Would either of you be up for making a deal?"

Suspicions immediately raised, and neither answered right away. "What sort of deal?" Neville asked hesitantly.

"You two come with me, help me look for my parents, and I'll get you into Professor Snape's private stash of potions. A straight up trade: we keep each other safe getting down there, I get the door open safely without damaging anything inside, and you two help me look around a little on the way." When no reply was forthcoming, he added, "Unless you don't think your side could use some more healing salves and pepper-up potions and god-knows what else he keeps in there. Better to let the Death Eaters have all of that, right?"

The two Gryffindors exchanged questioning looks for a moment before Neville nodded. "A quick search of every floor, you get us into the storeroom, but if we can't find Mr or Mrs Malfoy before then, we still part ways."

Draco extended his hand to Neville who shook it, though an uncertain expression turned his face down in a frown as Ginny held out a hand in an invitation to lead the way, saying, "After you."

*****

_"Harry Potter is dead."_

The sound of Voldemort's voice filled the air around him, a perverted mockery of a sympathetic friend, causing Snape to cease in his efforts to cross the grounds from the Whomping Willow to the castle.

_"He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished."_

The Dark Lord continued speaking, but Snape didn't hear. "Potter is dead," replayed in his mind over and over again. Too late. He was too late. In the end, he would only die once more trying and failing to stop the Dark Lord. A crushing sense of impossibility settled on his shoulders. He'd had to find Potter, protect Draco, reclaim the Elder Wand, stop the Dark Lord, fight off dementors, avoid former friends who thought him a traitor, and avoid being noticed by Death Eaters who thought him dead. It was all too much. Dumbledore had tried to warn him, but he hadn't listened. 

A sudden noise broke through his morose thoughts. Voldemort's spurious offers of peace were met with sounds of uprising and revolt. The pause in the war was over, it seemed, and Snape forced himself to continue on as well. If he was going to die, then he would go out fighting, not cowering in some remote area until the Dark Lord found him. Perhaps it would even be possible for the others to combine their strength and emerge victorious even without the "Chosen One". Buying the Order enough time to rally would have to be good enough, and it was a far better way to go than bleeding out on the floor of that dilapidated shack.

Snape was certain that nothing but anger and the dark magic he had cast on himself would keep him going through this battle. What little strength had been restored had already been depleted again just as quickly in the process of making his way into the Great Hall. He wasted precious seconds in attempting to assess the situation. A sea of bodies stood before him, firing spells in all directions. Yaxley was dueling George and Lee Jordan, Dolohov was being beaten back by Flitwick, McNair was thrown into a wall by Hagrid, Bellatrix was close to overwhelming Hermione and Luna, while Ron was attempting to face down Fenrir Greyback alone. Unfortunately, the Dark Lord was too far away for Snape to be able to aid McGonagall, Slughorn, and Kingsley in their fight. His first impulse was to help one of the one of the students who were taking on opponents who far outmatched them, like Bellatrix and Fenrir; however, a member of the Order would have a greater chance of success in helping to stop the Dark Lord, if he could help free one of them from their opponents.

An arrow whizzed past his ear, making his decision and spurring him into motion. The centaurs were closing in, and he had no desire to be slain by a compatriot who didn't know where his loyalties lay. Scanning the room as he limped forward, he found Arthur Weasley and one of his gangly sons fighting Thicknesse, or rather, being beaten back by him. The boy's name escaped him; all the Weasleys looked more or less the same to him, but he did remember thinking that this one may have been placed in the wrong house. Now the young man was fighting with as much courage as any Gryffindor and with just as few brains. Snape was disappointed to see that, even now, the Order was only using jinxes and hexes to fend off Death Eaters who clearly had no qualms about shooting to kill.

Trying to honor their idiotic wishes, Snape carefully made his way behind the Minister for Magic and leveled his wand. _"Petrificus Totalus,"_ he said with as much force as he could muster, fearful that the spell wouldn't go off properly in his current state. A smug grin turned up his otherwise exhausted features when Thicknesse froze in place with the killing curse on his lips. Giving in to a childish whim, Snape took another step forward and gave the minister a slight push, which sent his body tumbling to the floor with a satisfying crash. 

In a moment of cruel irony, Weasley took a step forward himself and punched Snape squarely in the nose before leveling his wand at the man he thought was a traitor to both the Potters and Dumbledore. Swearing softly, Snape dabbed the back of his hand to his face, and it came away bloody, as if he weren't already covered in the stuff. It took all of his willpower not to lash out in return, but there were more important things to be done. Forcing his voice to remain as neutral as possible while at wandpoint, he said, "Your efforts would be better served by helping Minerva and the others to bring down the Dark Lord."

Arthur's only response was to step closer, his wand still raised threateningly, but the boy grabbed him by the arm and pulled his father towards Voldemort. "Percy, we can't just let him go!"

Percy! That was the boy's name!

The former Head Boy continued to hold his father's arm tightly. "He's right, Dad. There are more important things to do than to fight with someone who wants to help. Let's go."

Percy's eyes turned momentarily to Snape with a look that said he knew what it was like to want to make amends. With a growl of frustration, Arthur lowered his wand and allowed his son to lead him away. While Arthur shoved his way over to stand alongside Kingsley, Percy stepped up beside Ron to help deal with Greyback.

"Severus!"

Snape barely had a chance to turn around before he found himself holding Narcissa Malfoy as she clung to him tightly, unable to hold back tears at the sight of him. It only took a moment for her to realize that she had her face pressed against a blood-soaked shirt, and she pulled back in horror. 

"Severus, are you hurt?"

Before she could begin prying at the buttons of his waistcoat to inspect for damage, he took both her hands in his and tilted her face up. "It isn't as serious as it may appear. I was able to find a quiet moment to heal most of it. What of you and Lucius?"

The fact that Lucius was presently inching around him to put Snape's body between himself and the conflagration was not lost on Snape, but at the moment, he didn't have time to care or to comment.

"We're both fine," Narcissa insisted, tugging on Snape's hands. "But Draco -- have you seen Draco? Do you know where he is? Potter said that he was still alive; he _swore_ to me, but I can't find him anywhere."

"I'm sure he's fine, Narcissa. Draco is an intelligent lad; he's probably trying to stay out of things as much as possible." Snape scowled as he added, "I just wish the same could have been said of Mr Potter. With this many people willing to die on his behalf, the ungrateful brat should have had better manners than to go and get himself killed so quickly."

"So it's true, then?" Narcissa's expression was one of shock and disbelief, though she didn't release her hold on Snape's hand. "You really are Dumbledore's man? Even with what you did for Draco last year?"

Snape straightened his stance, tamping down the pain that radiated from every muscle. "I am nobody's 'man'. I belong to _no one_. What I do, I choose to do, and I will not play the part of a house elf for Dumbledore, the Dark Lord, or anyone else. I made the Unbreakable Vow because I care about what happens to Draco, as I care for you and Lucius. I'm helping the Order now because I would not be a free man under the Dark Lord's rule."

Lucius spoke up for the first time, asking, "You think it's better to die a free man than live as a slave? I'd rather have a third option, if it's all the same."

"You could always help make sure that the Order wins." The affronted expression on his friend's face made Snape's own expression soften. "After the dust settles, tell them all about how you were coerced into aiding the Dark Lord, the threats against your family, the curses. They're a gullible lot, and it isn't even too much of a stretch from the truth. They shouldn't be too difficult to convince."

His words won a smile from Lucius, perhaps the first real smile Snape had seen from the man in recent years. It didn't take long, though, for the reality of their situation to drive away any short-lived happiness he might have felt. "If you want to make it through this, I'm going to need your help. Without Potter, we're _all_ going to have to work together to stop the Dark Lord."

"Potter is still alive."

Both men turned to stare at Narcissa in shock. "Say again?"

Narcissa's expression was simultaneously indignant and incredibly guilty. "I only told the Dark Lord that he was dead so that he would leave the poor boy alone."

"Then where is he now?!" Snape's head swiveled around, trying to take in the whole room, as if that would somehow allow him to find Potter. 

"I don't know." Narcissa shrugged helplessly. "He disappeared in the fighting once we got to the castle, but I'm more concerned about Draco. I gave him my wand so that he'd be safe, but it doesn't work for him, and Lucius doesn't have his anymore, either."

Trying to calm the worried mother clinging to his arm, Snape replied, "Draco never really wanted to be a part of this. He's only gone along with things thus far because of us. We told him that he should, that he _had_ to. Left to his own devices, I'm sure he's doing his best to stay out of things, just as he's been doing all year. And I recommend that you either help the Order or stay out of things completely. You're both in enough trouble already."

Lucius spread his hands helplessly. "But we have no wands!"

"Then use your brains! You're Slytherins -- act like it." Snape bent down to retrieve the wand from Thicknesse's hand, and he thrust it as Lucius. "Here, he won't be needing this anymore. Whatever you decide to do, be careful."

Snape laid a soft kiss on Narcissa's cheek as he said goodbye. An instant later, Lucius grabbed them both and pushed them out of the way as a streak of green shot past where they had been standing. Without the same respect for life that the Order had been showing, Lucius fired back a vicious volley of curses.

"Thanks for that." Snape brought his own wand up at the ready as both men moved to stand in front of Narcissa. "And good luck hunting for Draco."

"Try not to do anything too _Gryffindor_." The word left Malfoy's mouth with a sneer, attempting to cover the worry he felt for the man who had been his friend for decades. The idea that Snape was a traitor was shocking, but if the man felt confident enough to go against the Dark Lord, then he had to have a plan. Severus Snape wasn't the sort to throw his life away needlessly for others. He was a survivor. 

Unfortunately, Snape only made it a few steps away from them before the Potter boy revealed himself, which had the happy effect of causing the rest of the fighting to stop as everyone turned to witness whatever was about to happen between the Dark Lord and the Boy Who Lived. For his part, Snape let out a soft string of obscenities about Potter and his lineage. Rather than relying on the element of surprise, the idiot boy only stood there, all but lecturing the Dark Lord on his misbehavior! The brat had clearly taken one too many jinxes to the head. Snape knew that he didn't have the strength left to be of much help in a fight, but perhaps he still had enough luck left to stall for time.

Turning back to his friends, he said, "When you find Draco, tell him that I'm sorry I wasn't able to do more for him."

Narcissa tried to grab onto him, to keep him from going, but Lucius held her in place so that Snape could make his way through the crowd to come up behind the Dark Lord. Only the nearest witches and wizards took any notice of him at all, as the rest were too occupied in the verbal sparring between Voldemort and Potter. It was actually quite sickening. Potter didn't realize that he was being toyed with as the Dark Lord gloated about his victory over Dumbledore, promising that Potter would soon follow. Rather than using his opponent's egocentric distraction to his advantage, Potter simply went on babbling about _remorse_. 

Snape's attention was drawn in more clearly when he heard his own name mentioned.

"Severus Snape wasn't yours. Snape was Dumbledore's, Dumbledore's from the moment you started hunting down my mother. And you never realized it, because of the thing you can't understand. You never saw Snape cast a Patronus, did you, Riddle?"

God, Potter was unbelievably thick. Not only had he given away Severus' cover, he had enraged the Dark Lord beyond words. Clearly, the boy needed all the help he could get, and since no one else was stepping up to act, then Snape could at least provide him with a window of opportunity to strike. 

Raising his wand, Snape leveled it at the Dark Lord and called out his name, despite the feeling of nausea it sent through him to use it. In response, the whole room fell silent, and even the sounds of battle coming from outside seemed to diminish. Suddenly, Snape found himself with far more of the Dark Lord's attention than he truly wanted. Even more frustrating was the fact that, although he had caused the perfect distraction, Potter was only staring at him in shock, rather than doing whatever the "Chosen One" was supposed to do in order to kill Voldemort permanently. 

And now that he had everyone's attention, even Harry-sodding-Potter's, Snape felt compelled to say _something_ to fill the silence. 

Drawing upon years of teaching unruly students, Snape sneered at the Dark Lord as if he were a disobedient first-year who had caused a simple potion to explode. "You truly are a pathetic and incompetent excuse for a wizard. If you're going to murder someone, you should have the decency to do it personally and ensure that it's done _properly_. I expected more than such slip-shod work from you, what with all your claims of being such a 'superior wizard', but I suppose I shouldn't have been too surprised. You couldn't even kill an infant in his crib."

Voldemort shook with rage at Snape's audacity. He must have known that these words were meant to distract him, but even so, he couldn't seem to stop himself from turning fully to face Snape, growling back, "A mistake that I am more than happy to rectify."

"I'm sure you are. Only your pet snake is in pieces now, which means that you'll have to do it yourself. And if you'll recall, it was _I_ who killed Albus Dumbledore. You won't have any luck using that wand against me, and you're all out of Horcruxes to hide behind."

The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed into thin slits, and he bared his teeth in a growl of rage. However, his response was cut off by Potter, who was still standing there like a prat instead of getting on with killing him.

"Even your so-called 'victory' over Dumbledore was by his own design," Potter stated. The sound of his voice was beginning to fill Snape with as much anger as Voldemort did. "He was ill and had been dying all year. If he hadn't been, you would never have gotten anywhere near him. Dumbledore only died in the end because _he_ asked Professor Snape to do it. It had _nothing_ to do with you."

At his words, the Dark Lord whirled his head back around, wand raised against Potter.

"Your plans have all failed, Riddle."

Voldemort's chest rose and fell rapidly, though the Dark Lord seemed torn between directing his rage at Potter or at Snape. In a blur of light, curses and hexes all flew across the Great Hall once more. Voldemort's killing curse caused the remaining Death Eaters to fire off curses of their own, while the Order and Hogwarts students threw up shielding spells and counters. There was a deafening bang from the center of the room as Voldemort's spell collided with return fire from the Boy Who Lived, although Snape wasn't able to discern what spell Potter was using. 

Casting a shielding spell around himself used up the last of Snape's strength, and even standing proved to be more than he was capable of doing. Unable to fight back the exhaustion any longer, he sank to his knees amidst the resumed battle. His final thought before the world faded from grey to black was that only a Gryffindor would stand before the Dark Lord and endanger the entire wizarding world by prattling endlessly about sentimental nonsense, rather than taking the free shot that he had all but come back from the dead to create for the ungrateful brat.

*****


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The immediate aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts, Snape's road to recovery, and Harry makes a trip to the Ministry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My wife had a death in the family, so this was a little slow in coming. Chapter 3 is mostly done, and I only have two more weeks before sitting my exam and then break time. Who knows, maybe I'll get something done early for once...

Madam Pomfrey raced into the Infirmary, throwing the doors open in front of her with a flick of her wand. So many had been injured or killed that evening that she had been forced to settle them all in a larger space; however, given this patient's situation, a little privacy seemed the wisest course of action. She barely had time to spell the debris and dust from the nearest bed before the others came running in after her.

"Put him there," she instructed, stepping aside to allow Harry and the others through. Harry was exhausted, but had insisted on levitating Snape off the battlefield himself. Despite his own numerous injuries, the boy wouldn't let anyone look at him until the headmaster had been attended to. 

Truthfully, the man was a horrific site to see. The blood that soaked his clothes was wet and bright red, only just beginning to brown at the edges as it slowly dried. Angry-looking gashes ran the length of his throat. It was a mystery to Madam Pomfrey how he had survived, and she wasn't sure that she wanted to know. 

In his haste to set Snape down on the narrow bed, Harry nearly lost control of his spell and dropped him. Arthur Weasley, who had been hovering close by Harry's side, somewhat begrudgingly moved to steady Snape's unconscious form. Behind them, Hermione and Ron stood in the doorway, unwilling to let Harry out of their sight and determined to stand guard in case the fighting started up again. Keeping Harry safe was their primary objective, and they were still uncertain as to how much they could really trust Snape.

Harry continued to hover to the point of being underfoot. Pomfrey was doing her best to control her agitation, but it wasn't long before Mr Weasley noticed and began gently pulling Harry away. When he didn't immediately succeed in drawing Harry from the bedside, Arthur put his arm around Harry's shoulders and laid a kiss atop his head. "Come on, Harry, let her do her work. Come away."

Harry's gaze never wavered from Snape's face, but he did allow himself to be led back a few steps. "He'll be all right, won't he?"

A dark expression momentarily flickered across Mr Weasley's features. It rankled that Harry should show so much concern for a man who had been a Death Eater most of his life while his own family had just been torn apart. At the same time, he considered Harry to be a son, and he couldn't stand the look of frantic desperation the boy wore. "Of course he will. Severus has always been far too stubborn to let anything like this keep him down for long."

Exhausted, Harry let his eyes sink shut as he leaned against Mr Weasley for support. Minutes passed that way, more of the Order joining them to whisper amongst themselves, but Harry couldn't be bothered to pay attention to what they were saying. It wasn't until he heard the pounding of feet approaching the Infirmary that Harry opened his eyes again. McGonagall came hurrying in, looking past the others to observe Madam Pomfrey still hard at work over Snape's body.

Drawing her attention, Harry asked, "How are things downstairs?"

"Improved," was the best that she could bring herself to say. The Dark Lord may have been defeated, but there were easily forty or fifty sheets covering the dead lined in the halls. "The Death Eaters have either been rounded up or have fled. Without Voldemort to control them, the dementors have ceased their attack as well. The centaurs have fought the giants and spiders back into the forest, and the house elves are doing a sweep of the castle for any hidden forces." McGonagall stepped up to Harry's side and put a hand on his shoulder. "Right now, Hagrid is gathering the coaches to get the last of the children to safety. Any word on Severus? Do you know what happened to him, Mr Potter?"

"I--" Harry glanced over his shoulder to Snape. "I thought he had died, or I never would have left him. Honest! When Voldemort attacked him in the Shrieking Shack, I thought-- I thought he was dead-- I thought--"

When Harry couldn't continue speaking, McGonagall squeezed his shoulder. "We all doubted him, Potter. It wasn't your fault."

Her words did nothing to soothe the anxiety in Harry's expression, and it was as upsetting to see his pain at being unable to do anything as it was to know that the friend she hadn't trusted was possibly going to die. McGonagall carefully schooled her own face so as not to upset Harry further. She was saved from having to give any weak platitudes by Madam Pomfrey's finally moving away from Snape's side to join them. 

Even from a distance, Snape didn't look good. His deathly pallor had been somewhat alleviated, but his expression was obviously still pained. Her years of familiarity with Pomfrey allowed McGonagall to see through her façade of clinical neutrality as she approached. 

"How bad is it, Poppy?" she asked, keeping her hand firmly on Harry's shoulder to prevent him from running up to her in his eagerness.

"It's better than it could have been," Pomfrey began, searching for the proper thing to say. Besides being the so-called savior of the wizard world, Harry was still young, and she didn't want to hurt him with either false hope or an overly detached analysis. "Severus obviously suffered a great deal of blood loss, and there's evidence of his having been poisoned as well."

Harry nodded vigorously, corroborating her observations. "Nagini, Voldemort's snake, she was the one who attacked him." He turned to Mr Weasley and added, "Just the same as you at the Ministry."

Pomfrey gave a slow nod of understanding. "That would explain the cause of his injuries, then. There's also what looks like phoenix tears on him and in his blood, which would have worked to remove much of the poison."

Whatever else she might have had to report was cut off by a happy exclamation from Harry. "That proves it, then! Professor Snape had to have been Dumbledore's man all along." When no one else seemed to understand, he elaborated. "Fawkes. When the basilisk attacked me second year, Fawkes appeared out of nowhere. Dumbledore said that there's _always_ help at Hogwarts for those who deserve it. Fawkes wouldn't have showed up for Professor Snape if he wasn't really one of us."

No one had the heart to tell Harry that as a highly accomplished Potions master, Snape could have had a vial of the tears. Trying to be supportive, Arthur nodded in agreement and said, "If that's the fact of the matter, then it does speak strongly of Snape's character. A phoenix would never willingly help a bad person."

"The venom is almost completely gone, but there are other factors as well. There is a great deal of dark magic poisoning his blood. After he was injured, he probably also cast--" Pomfrey stopped herself as her gaze moved from Harry to his friends standing huddled behind him. "He cast quite a few very dark spells on himself to prolong his life, despite being badly wounded. Such things can be useful short term, but they themselves can be fatal if not properly attended to soon. The dark magic itself is poisoning him now."

"He was in the Shrieking Shack a long time." Harry looked past her to Snape's pale form once more. "Do you think-- Will he be all right?"

As if on cue, Snape sat up in bed, his arm extended as if still holding his wand to fight off whatever phantoms haunted his mind. Harry ducked out of the hold McGonagall and Mr Weasley had on him and was immediately by Snape's side. "It's okay, sir, it's all over-- it's over. We did it."

The sound of Harry's voice seemed to penetrate whatever fog was holding him. Snape turned his head to look at him and saw McGonagall standing there as well. Reaching out, he snagged the sleeve of her robe, his hand trembling from the effort. "Keep him safe," was all he managed to choke out before falling back against the bed.

Before more could be done, Hermione let out a gasp and called out, "Harry!"

Tearing his gaze away from Snape, Harry turned to look at his friend who was pointing out of the Infirmary doors. A moment later, Kingsley Shacklebolt came charging in, Lupin's body floating in the air behind him. Shacklebolt explained that while taking stock of their dead and wounded, he had discovered that Lupin wasn't quite as dead as they had thought.

Pomfrey spelled another bed clean and waved them over to deposit her new patient. She didn't seem as surprised as the others, informing them that this sort of things wasn't uncommon with magical creatures. "You must remember," she stated as if it were common knowledge, "that what can kill a normal person might only incapacitate a werewolf. Short of the killing curse, of course."

Harry was a bundle of energy, uncertain where to hover: around Lupin or Snape.

"I don't have much time," Shacklebolt informed them. "The Minister was found petrified among the bodies in the Great Hall, and the Ministry is in chaos. Before I left, however, I wanted to make certain that Lupin got whatever care he requires."

Pomfrey finished waving her wand over the man's body, and she nodded in approval. "Diagnostically, he's not bad off. His magic is exhausted, and he won't feel well for some time, but he will recover. His heightened metabolism is already correcting the damage done. He'll need to rest here for a time. Severus, on the other hand..." Her voice trailed off as she stepped around Lupin's bed to return to her other patient.

Harry grabbed hold of Shacklebolt's arm to keep him from hurrying from the room now that his duty to Lupin had been discharged. "I was wrong about Snape; we were all wrong about him. He was really on our side the whole time."

"Is that so?" Shacklebolt eyed him curiously. "From where I was, it sounded more like he and the Dark Lord had a falling out, which ended in Voldemort's attempting to kill Snape, which angered the Headmaster enough to fight back. Nothing more."

"That's not what happened at all! You can't possibly believe that."

"It doesn't matter what I do or don't believe. You have to understand, Harry, there is no proof of Snape's allegiance to the side of Light, and all his previous actions suggest that he was a loyal Death Eater until only a few hours ago."

"But that's _not_ what happened! The pensieve, the pensieve in the Headmaster's office. It's full of Snape's memories, and Dumbledore had shelves of stored memories, too. They'll explain everything. It's all there. Everything he's done was on Dumbledore's orders, including Dumbledore's own death."

Shacklebolt held Harry's gaze for a long moment before nodding. "Very well. I will speak to the Ministry about it. Severus will have to go _soon_ to explain himself, but I will see to it that they wait."

McGonagall made a most un-ladylike snort in response. "If Voldemort couldn't take this castle, I'd like to see the Wizengamot _try_ to come here and take him before he's well."

"I'll speak to them on his behalf." Harry looked at Snape again, his face filled with concern. As much as he disliked the Wizengamot, he knew it was the right thing to do. "I might be able to explain to them a little, buy him some time."

"Between that, the memories in his pensieve, and Professor Dumbledore's portrait, surely that ought to be enough to appease them," McGonagall said decisively. 

"That might be sufficient to hold off a proper trial for a time." Shacklebolt looked back at Arthur, who nodded in silent acknowledgement that his words were primarily for Harry's benefit. Snape was a _very_ high profile Death Eater, and the public would be crying for his head because of Dumbledore, if nothing else. But all of that could be addressed at another time. Unless Madam Pomfrey was allowed to work in peace, there might be no need of a trial.

Drawing Harry's attention away from Snape, Kingsley said firmly, "You should go and let Pomfrey work. She knows what she's doing. If the students are all being sent home now, you and your friends should go and say goodbye. I will arrange for you to speak before the Wizengamot tomorrow. Those loyal to Voldemort are scattered now, and it will be safest for you to be out before they can regroup. Do you think you might be able to write a summary statement about what you know of Severus's involvement before morning?"

With a definite task set to him, Harry nodded emphatically. "Anything you need, I'll get right on it. But what do you mean, 'safe to go out'?"

The adults all exchanged uneasy glances, and McGonagall moved to put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "The Order feels that it would be best if you remained here until more of the Death Eaters are found."

Not having anywhere else to go, Harry nodded along numbly. At least this way, he would be able to help protect Professor Snape if anyone came after him until he was well again.

*****

Harry hated the Ministry of Magic. Not for any political reasons, but the building itself made him uncomfortable. It seemed as if every time he was in it, someone was either trying to kill him or arrest him. Sirius had died there. Mr Weasley had very nearly been killed there as well. Harry tugged at the tie around his neck, hating every moment that he was made to stand idly in the hall, waiting to be shown in before the Wizengamot. This time, he wasn't the one on trial. Someone else's life depended on his ability to speak well and make others believe something that he himself hadn't understood until only a day ago. It sickened Harry to know that he, himself, had played a role in the witch-hunt against Snape. It had been his word about what had happened in the Astronomy Tower that had turned the Order against him, and now the Wizengamot was more than happy to blame Snape for all that had gone so horribly wrong over the last year.

He was so tense, fidgeting in place, that the gentle ding of the elevator behind him made Harry jump. Neville stepped out, looking no more at ease in his dress robes than his classmate.

"Hi there, Harry," he said, doing his best to give him a warm smile rather than staring about them nervously.

"Hey, Neville. What do they have you down here for?"

"They asked me to come in to make a statement about Draco. Rumor has it, they're planning on going easy on the families of known Death Eaters, but Draco has the Dark Mark. That's going to complicate things for him." Neville frowned, his face full of concern. "But in the end, he was actually a big help. I wish I knew what to say to _them_ \--" He gestured at the doors leading to the courtroom. "--so that I won't sound so stupid."

"You'll be fine." Harry's voice almost sounded certain as he spoke. "Just tell them what happened as best you can."

Giving a slow nod, Neville decided that it would be best to change the subject from himself. "You here for Snape?" When Harry nodded, he stepped closer to speak more softly. "There was a lot of talk that you would, but the word is that you're going to speak out against him."

Harry's jaw dropped in shock. It had only been a day since they had fought their way through the castle grounds. The speed at which rumors circulated was astounding to him. "A week ago, I might have. You were there -- you saw what happened. There's no way that I could say anything against him now."

"I know that, but I just wanted to let you know what I've been hearing. In case the Wizengamot's heard it, too, and has notions about what they _think_ you're trying to say, even if that's not what you actually mean."

"You sure know a lot about what people are on about."

"Lee Jordan hasn't stopped broadcasting since the fighting at Hogwarts stopped. Now that he doesn't have to hide, he's had a lot of people on with him, giving opinions and such."

Harry's reply was cut off by the massive doors to the large chamber opening before them. A thin, balding wizard with spectacles stepped out and addressed them. "Mister Potter, the Wizengamot has finished reviewing your written statement and is prepared to hear your testimony in a preliminary capacity regarding Severus Snape. Please come in."

It was probably the first time anyone in the damned building had ever said 'please' while asking anything of him, and to Harry, it felt oddly suspicious. Neville gave him a silent wave farewell as Harry moved to follow the wizard into the courtroom in which he had been far too many times for his liking. His own trial had taken place here in fifth year, and he had seen several trials in this room through Snape's and Dumbledore's pensieves. Where before, Cornelius Fudge had stood sneering down at him, Kingsley Shacklebolt now headed the Wizengamot. Seeing him there helped somewhat to calm his nerves.

Once Harry had seated himself, Shacklebolt rapped his gavel once to quiet the soft murmuring behind him. "Good afternoon, Mister Potter, and thank you for coming here so quickly to speak with us. From having read your statement, we all know how busy you've been of late. We'll try to keep this brief so that you can get some much-deserved rest."

"Thank you, sir, but if it's all the same, I'd rather not rush anything and risk being misunderstood. Professor Snape deserves at least that much." Having no idea what else to say, Harry simply added, "So whatever you need to ask is fine."

A witch in dark blue robes spoke up. "I would like to know how it was that you say Headmaster Snape was 'killed' by He Who Must Not Be Named, only to return to the school once more, alive and well."

"He is alive," Harry conceded, understanding how it was a confusing point. It still baffled him, and he was there to witness it. "But Professor Snape is far from being well, which is why he isn't here himself right now."

"Too true." Shacklebolt turned to the Wizengamot as he spoke. "I would remind everyone that this is merely a preliminary hearing. Having seen the Headmaster personally, I can attest to his current state. I have the Deputy Headmistress's assurances that he will be brought here as soon as he is able. Until then, please keep your questions limited to Mister Potter's testimony."

In the front of the group, a rather skeptical-looking wizard cleared his throat. "I have a hard time believing that Headmaster Snape, a known Death Eater with close, personal ties to the Dark Lord, would have lent aid to defeating him. It seems altogether too convenient that he should suddenly claim to have been a double agent all these years now that the Dark Lord is gone."

Never having been able to hold back terse comments, Harry replied, "Spies don't tend to live very long when they announce their true allegiances _before_ their target is eliminated."

His remark won a small rise of laughter from a few members of the Wizengamot. The wizard who had spoken, however, did not look impressed. His mouth was set in a hard line of disapproval. "Was it not your own statement last year that named Severus Snape as the murderer of Albus Dumbledore?"

"Yes, but--"

"Did you not witness the act in question?"

" _Yes,_ but--"

"And in your current statement, you give testimony that your belief in Severus Snape's so-called innocence is based upon scenarios seen in his pensieve. Said article is currently with the Aurors, being placed in evidence for future evaluation," he added to the court. "It should be pointed out that the Headmaster had a considerable amount of time to plan contingencies. How can we be certain that in that time, he didn't construct an elaborate alibi for himself, should anything go amiss?"

Before Shacklebolt could inform him that such lines of questioning were outside the scope of Harry's knowledge, Harry was ready with a retort of his own.

"I've seen memories that had been tampered with before. It's not easy to alter pensieve memories, and even extremely talented wizards have trouble making memories that aren't easy to spot as fakes. If a student without any training could tell the difference between a true memory and one that had been altered, I feel fairly confident that all of you should be able to tell that these are genuine as well. Besides, if he were as loyal as Voldemort as you suggest, why would he risk making a defense for himself in case Voldemort was defeated? The Dark Lord wasn't exactly a forgiving sort, and such an act would certainly be cause for punishment if he were caught."

Rather than allowing her companion to continue his back-and-forth with Harry, another witch raised her voice to be heard. "Could you say again, in your own words, what has made you so certain of the Headmaster's allegiance?"

Harry paused a moment to collect his thoughts. "I suppose I would have to go back seven years. Since the very beginning, I was suspicious of Professor Snape, but I was only eleven years old, and he's a very intimidating-looking man. I didn't understand that there could be a difference between not being nice and being a bad person. From the very beginning, Dumbledore told me again and again that he trusted Professor Snape, and I should have had more faith in what Dumbledore was telling me. Anyone who's ever met Snape will agree with me that he isn't an easy person to get on with, but that doesn't mean that he's guilty or shouldn't be given a fair chance."

"That's a very mature attitude, Mister Potter, but could you offer some insight regarding Dumbledore's death?"

Finding it difficult to talk about, even a whole year later, Harry drew in a deep, steadying breath to calm himself. "After-- After Dumbledore-- After he died, Snape-- I mean, Professor Snape kept the other Death Eaters from hurting me. One of them cast the Cruciatus curse on me, but he... he stopped them. He didn't allow any of them to hurt me. When I chased after them, I tried to stop the Death Eaters from getting away, but Snape never once cast any spells back at me. At that time, I was so mad that he had killed Dumbledore that I couldn't see what was going on. With no other adults around, he could have easily taken me for Voldemort if he had wanted to, and that would have been the end of it."

"I understand that it's probably painful for you," the witch in red robes said kindly, "but we need more details about the late-Headmaster's actual death. I need you to think back to the night in question and tell us about what happened between Snape and Dumbledore."

Harry nodded shakily and began in earnest what was to be a very tedious, very draining few hours in front of a skeptical Wizengamot. After what seemed like an eternity of questioning, the Wizengamot agreed that Snape would still require a trial to be asked direct questions regarding his involvement with the Death Eaters over the years and his actions but that there was enough evidence in his favor that the trial could wait until he was deemed well enough to come to the Ministry without endangering his life. 

Before he could be excused, Harry spoke up to ask, "If you don't mind, there is one other thing that I wanted to say? On a separate matter."

Shacklebolt looked to the Wizengamot, most of whom appeared to be as curious as he was. "Very well, go ahead."

"Neville told me about what Draco did for him and Ginny, and he said that he was going to give testimony about him later. Well, there was something else about Draco that I thought you ought to know." When Shacklebolt nodded for him to continue, Harry took a deep breath in and out again. "Not to say I have any personal liking for Malfoy, but it was pretty clear he never wanted to be a part of the Death Eaters. Voldemort threatened to kill him and his whole family horribly if he didn't do as he was told. Only a few days ago, my friends and I were taken prisoner, and I lied about who I was. Draco could have identified me as Harry Potter, but he chose not to."

"The Wizengamot is not yet ready to hear evidence in the case of Draco Malfoy," Shacklebolt said, "however, if you would be willing to leave a written statement, then it shouldn't be necessary for us to call you back until or unless there is a formal trial. And Harry, thank you very much for your assistance in this matter."

*****

Lupin was sitting up in his bed in the Hogwarts infirmary, looking as haggard as if the night before had been a full moon and feeling only slightly better than that. He was working hard to remain awake and focused on his conversation with Minerva, who sat in a chair beside him.

"Poppy had to work on Severus the whole night through," she was saying. "She still isn't sure whether he'll survive this, or what his life will be like if he does. I personally suspect that he'll make it out of sheer bloody-mindedness. Mind you, I've no idea what I'll say to him if he does wake up. 'Oh, Severus, thank goodness you're alive! So sorry that I called you a coward and tried to set you on fire.'" 

"I wish I could say that I'd always trusted Severus," Lupin said sadly. "I think that I did trust him more than most, up to the point of Albus's death, although I can't say that I've ever particularly _liked_ him. Harry and I used to argue about it, and I remember telling him that Albus trusted Severus, and that was good enough for me. I suppose none of us realized the extent or the depth of Albus's planning. It certainly never occurred to me that he would have planned for his own murder, and even who his killer would be."

Minerva grimaced. "Don't be too hard on yourself, Remus. I knew Albus for years longer than you did! I knew that he was a conniving old bastard, but even I never imagined that he would have orchestrated his own execution. When I think of all the times that I chastised Severus for his comments about Albus's scheming and plotting, it seems to me that Severus may have known him better than any of us." 

That remark elicited a slight chuckle from Lupin, and Minerva smiled at him before changing the subject. "Now, as for your situation… Poppy tells me that you're recovering rather quickly, but I think it would be best if you were to lay low for a while. I'm sure you're aware that Minister Thicknesse was found to have been a Death Eater, as were several other Ministry officials?" Lupin nodded, and she continued, "Well, the Ministry is still in shambles, of course, and everyone is desperate for someone to take the blame. It would be safest for you to remain at Hogwarts for a little longer. Kingsley has been appointed temporary, emergency Minister for Magic, and Harry is with him at the moment."

Lupin startled a little at that. "He's all right, isn't he? Harry, I mean? I'm sure he's safe enough with Kingsley, but he's been through so much…"

"Harry is fine," she hastened to assure him. "And because several others have asked me already, I will also happily inform you that the Dark Lord really has been defeated, and that the Order has managed to catch most of the remaining Death Eaters and to ensure that the castle and its grounds are clear of any stragglers. Hogwarts is safe, if a bit worse for wear."

"And Teddy? Dora and I left him with Andromeda for the duration of the battle, but I've not heard anything. I would greatly appreciate it if someone would make sure they were safe."

Minerva's eyes softened at the mention of Lupin's wife and son. "We have been contacting the families of those who fell at Hogwarts. I personally fire-called Mrs Tonks earlier this morning to inform her of what happened to her daughter. She was... obviously distraught, but she and Teddy are safe." She paused for a moment, not wanting to become too emotional herself. "Poppy thinks that you will only get stronger day by day. I'm sure that Harry will want to see you when he returns from the Ministry, but after that, it would be completely understandable if you would prefer to recover with your family."

Lupin nodded weakly, drawing in a shaky breath. "I'll speak to Andromeda again soon. I don't-- I don't think I'm going to be strong enough to take care of Teddy by myself for a little while. I'll ask if she'd be willing to let us stay on with her for a bit. If not, would you...?"

"You and your son are both welcome to stay here just as long as you need." Trying to sound confident, McGonagall added, "However, I have no doubt that Mrs Tonks would be delighted to have you and her grandson stay with her until you're well. While her home may not have all the protections of Hogwarts, but I know her, and I trust her warding abilities. In another day or two, if you'd like, we can arrange for your safe passage there."

"Thank you, Minerva. For everything."

McGonagall smiled at him and patted his hand affectionately as she rose. "You should get some rest. When you're feeling stronger, you can come to my office and firecall Mrs Tonks."

*****

Despite not having attended a single class during what should have been his seventh year at Hogwarts, Harry wasn't surprised in the slightest to have ended up in the Infirmary with Madam Pomfrey fussing over him. Some students managed to complete their entire education without needing more than the occasional Pepper-up Potion. Harry, however, was intimately familiar with the neatly made-up rows of beds. He'd been in there so often that when he'd volunteered to help, Pomfrey had needed to give him very little instruction on where the supplies were kept. The task he was given, though, was even more surprising to Harry than the fact that he wasn't the one lying unconscious for once.

Madam Pomfrey had patiently explained that the reason that Snape had been able to survive his injuries and continue fighting was because of the numerous dark magic spells that he'd cast on himself at some point on the day of the battle. She wouldn't tell Harry what spells they were when he asked, only that they had prolonged his life at great cost. The idea of it left Harry with the same cold, sickened feeling as when he'd watched Voldemort drink the blood of a unicorn. Like a poison, Pomfrey had said, the dark magic would need to be leeched from Snape's body if he was going to make a recovery.

At the time, Harry hadn't known that she'd meant it literally. When she had presented him with a collection of tiny, translucent leeches, Harry had felt his stomach roll at the idea of touching them at all, let alone applying them to Snape's body. And yet, for the next few days, Harry found himself tasked with the duty of monitoring the color of the leeches he'd placed along Snape's arms. When they became fat and black, Harry changed them out for fresh ones. Pomfrey had warned him that if he wasn't vigilant, they would continue feeding until they exploded. He was half certain that she'd only said that to keep him from wandering off and getting underfoot, but another part of him wasn't entirely convinced that the little bugs wouldn't gorge themselves to bursting. As Snape had saved his life so many times over, it only seemed right to begin paying him back by not letting him get covered in leech guts.

Either way, Harry hadn't left the former Death Eater's side since returning from the Ministry the day before. In fact, he was still wearing the same clothes that he'd worn before the Wizengamot. Briefly, Harry had caught a nap in the chair that he'd drawn up to Snape's bedside, and he had politely refused when McGonagall had tried to get him to join the faculty for dinner. Harry had promised himself that he wouldn't leave until Snape had woken and ordered him out.

Already, another of the magical leeches had purpled, but it would still be a while before it was fat enough to detach for disposal. Even so, he had the urge to reach out and give it a testing squeeze.

"Don't... touch me."

The unexpected words caused Harry to pull his hand back into his lap like a guilty child caught reaching for the biscuit tin. Once that initial moment of shock passed, however, his face broke out in a radiant smile. He took hold of Snape's hand in both his own and exclaimed, "You're awake!"

Snape decided he had been wrong before -- _this_ must be what Hell was like. Every part of him hurt, and the pain was made worse by Potter's uncontrolled enthusiasm. The fact that Potter was even there to watch him made him even more certain that he was suffering some eternal punishment. Unfortunately, he wasn't dead. Snape forced his eyes open and waited for the room around him to cease swimming enough that he could make out the Hogwarts Infirmary. It was not what he had expected, but far preferable to Azkaban. He must not have been unconscious for as long as he'd thought. The guards simply hadn't transferred him to the prison yet.

As good as it was to know that Potter was still alive after all the effort he'd put into keeping him safe, the boy was still clinging to his hand for some reason. His brain sluggishly processed what was happening. Whatever Potter had said, he wanted to shoot back a scathing retort, but his voice refused to cooperate. Once he'd swallowed a few times, Snape managed, "...keen grasp of the obvious."

Rather than switching off, Harry's smile widened. "Sarcasm is a sign that you'll be all right," he stated, reaching up to pat Snape's shoulder gently. "I'll go and get Madam Pomfrey so she can--"

"No!" Snape gripped Potter's hand tightly so that he wouldn't leave. Short of being dragged to Azkaban and its Dementors, the last thing he wanted was the nurse fussing over him as if he were a schoolboy. Pain was preferable to her well-intentioned coddling.

Startled by the insistence in that one word, Harry froze halfway out of his seat. "Okay... is there anything that _I_ can do for you? Are you hungry?"

The thought of food made Snape's stomach clench unpleasantly, and he shook his head. "Water?"

"Of course!" Jumping up. Harry moved to fumble with a nearby pitcher, causing Snape to roll his eyes and attempt to sit up. There was no way he was going to let the idiot boy dump it all over him in an effort to be helpful. His traitorous limbs, however, were having none of it. Harry returned with a glass and put one hand on Snape's shoulder again to keep him in place. "You shouldn't be moving around too much. You were injured pretty badly. Madam Pomfrey didn't even think you'd be awake for another day or two. I'll help you sit up a little, but don't try to do too much. You'll hurt yourself."

Despite wanting to snatch the glass from Potter and do it himself, Snape found he was only just able to be propped up in order to take small sips. Even being upright that much was making the room spin. Staging some kind of escape before the Aurors arrived was going to be out of the question. At least Potter was too much of a fool to know that he didn't deserve to be shown any kindness. "Thank you," he murmured once he'd had his fill. Being laid out flat again actually made him feel good by comparison. Snape's eyes slipped shut as he let out a sigh of relief, and so he missed seeing the frown that darkened Potter's face.

"You don't need to thank me," Harry said softly, setting the glass aside in favor of taking Snape's hand again. "You know, you ought to take in some calories if you're going to get better. If you don't want food, how about some pumpkin juice?"

It made sense logically, but Snape was so tired that he wasn't sure he'd be able to manage it. He nodded and said, "Later."

"All right." Harry hesitated a moment before asking softly, "Do you want me to leave?"

Turning his head, Snape attempted to work up a glare, but it fell short. "Do what you want," was all he said before closing his eyes again.

It wasn't an invitation, but it wasn't the sharp tongue-lashing that he'd expected. Either Snape was too exhausted to be his usual self, or perhaps his "usual" self was a front that was no longer necessary without the constant threat of Voldemort. For some reason, Harry doubted that it was the latter. Regardless, he pulled his chair closer to the bed and resumed his hold on Snape's hand.

There was so much that he wanted to say, that he wanted to apologize for. Snape had done so much to help him even while being a miserable taskmaster, and all Harry had done in return was to shoot curses at him and turn half the wizarding world against him. Of course, the other half hadn't really needed his help in discrediting Snape.

"I want you to know, I really am sorry for the way I've acted." His words clearly took Snape by surprise, and Harry could feel his face flush as the professor opened his eyes and gazed at him skeptically. "I am... really. And I'm going to do whatever I can to make it up to you."

Snape wanted to say that he could start by not wasting perfectly good openings when facing down a Dark Lord, but it was simply too much effort at the moment. Instead, he nodded to indicate that he'd understood the boy's words, and he let his eyes slip shut again. It wouldn't matter, anyway. Soon he would be in Azkaban and Potter could get on with his life. Hopefully, the boy would be all right without someone constantly looking after him.

When Snape said nothing, Harry continued. "I spoke before the Wizengamot on your behalf yesterday. I don't know how helpful I was, but I tried to set everyone straight about everything that's been happening. They kept twisting everything I said, asking things like, if you could fool Voldemort, why couldn't you have been tricking Dumbledore just as easily. But Kingsley seemed to think it was enough to keep them from coming after you while you're ill. There won't be a trial until you're doing better."

That news was even more surprising than waking to find Harry Potter at his bedside. Honestly, he shouldn't have been shocked by that -- Potter was _always_ where he had no business being -- but to be told that no one was coming for him was truly startling.

Another slow nod from Snape was all the prompting that Harry needed to prattle on further. "Oh, and you'll never believe this! The _whole_ Malfoy family turned themselves in to the Ministry pretty much the second that the fighting here was over. I heard from Mr. Weasley that they went to say that they had been threatened by Voldemort and Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters, and that they were coerced into letting them set up a base of operations in Malfoy Manor. The Ministry has been wading through loads of stuff they found there. Mr. Malfoy was trying to cut some sort of deal to help them go through it all and identify other Death Eaters. A lot of people in the Order are really unhappy because it looks like the Ministry is going to take him up on it. As far as I've heard, Mrs. Malfoy is only there as a formality, though. There isn't any evidence against her, and she ought to be cleared soon, if she hasn't been already."

Snape had to concentrate hard in order to form the word, "Draco?" Exhausted and already half asleep, he would need to hear all of this again later; however, it was oddly comforting to listen to Potter carrying on. It eased some of his concern for Lucius and Narcissa, but Potter's voice was also soothing, almost like white noise or the waves of the ocean.

"Draco should be fine. I wrote a statement for the Wizengamot about how he had an opportunity to turn me over to Voldemort himself, but he didn't. Neville and Ginny both went to the Ministry to speak on his behalf as well. Apparently, during the fighting, Draco saved their lives, and the three of them helped some students, who'd been trapped under rubble, to get out of the castle. I heard McGonagall and Mr. Weasley talking and they seem to think that almost all of the young Death Eaters are going to be given some leniency, since…"

Potter continued talking, but his words became muddled. Snape stopped trying to pay attention and just let the sound wash over him. The boy's voice was a reminder than everything he'd done hadn't been in vain, and the pain he felt in every joint hadn't been for nothing. Not that he would _ever_ let Harry Potter know that he was enjoying the sound of his voice. Never.

*****

Harry stared down at the blank piece of paper in front of him, completely at a loss as to what he should write. At dinner, Errol had flown into the Hall and dropped a package directly onto his plate. While Harry had intended to pen a response the next morning, his sleep had been as tumultuous as the thunderstorm raging outside. Every time he had tried to roll over and fall back asleep, images of Dobby's lifeless form or Fred's crushed body had left him sweaty, shaking, and very much awake. In the end, he had given up on sleep and had sat down at one of the small tables with his quill and some parchment to write to his friends. Unfortunately, three scraps of parchment had thus far been wadded up and thrown into the bin. The one on the table in front of him only bore the word, _"Ron,"_ which was all that he'd managed to write before his thoughts had ground to a halt.

Unfolding Ron's letter to him, Harry read it over again, trying to find a place to start instead of just spilling out everything he felt in a jumbled mess.

> _"Hey, Harry,_
> 
> _"We missed you here today. Not just today. I mean, every day, but today more than most. It's really weird waking up in my own bed, and it's just as weird waking up and not having you there. When we didn't see you at Tonks's funeral, we all hoped that you would make it to the Burrow for Fred's._
> 
> _"Don't think that means any of us blame you for not being there! As much as we wanted to see you, it's more important for you to be safe. There are still way too many Death Eaters on the run who would be happy to see you dead, and there's no way we're going let them get at you easily. You know, actually, maybe it's a good thing you weren't here. The whole thing was a mess. I thought that the house was packed for Bill's wedding -- this was easily just as bad. Worse, really, since everyone's crying instead of laughing._
> 
> _"Dad and Percy have been spending nearly every minute of the day at the Ministry, trying to clean up the mess that's been made of the government. They both think Kingsley is an excellent choice for Minister. I got that much out of them when Dad actually stayed around long enough for breakfast one day. Bill and Fleur are both here, too. Bill's been working almost as many hours at Gringott's, and Charlie's decided to stay on through the summer. He's been lending a hand in Diagon Alley, as well. Fleur is… trying to be helpful. Mostly, she just ends up making Mum cry, but she's crying most of the time these days. Hermione's here, which is nice, even if it is cramped. Only, she's sharing a room with Ginny. Sometimes I think about taking my stuff out to the barn to sleep, just to have a little privacy. Other times, I think about kicking Ginny out to the barn so I can share her room with Hermione instead._
> 
> _"Not that Hermione would go for it, but it's a nice thought that makes me happy when one too many aunts who smell like something out of the Potions classroom have hugged me. Snogging is about all that Hermione's up for right now. She's worried about her parents, and she's going to leave soon to find them. I think she's been putting it off because she knows that she's going to be in a world of trouble when she sets their memories straight. At least in part. I don't think she's ever been punished before in her life._
> 
> _"There is one thing that's been bugging me, speaking of Ginny and Hermione. Every time your name comes up, Ginny gets this funny look about her. She and Hermione have been talking a lot in that secret whispery way that girls do, then neither of them will tell me what it's about. I'm not an idiot, I know it's about you, but Ginny won't say what's going on. It's her life and all, but she's still my sister, and you're my best mate. I think I should get to know what's going on, even if no one cares for my opinion on the matter. Unless you get my sister pregnant, in which case, my opinion completely matters, because then I'd have to give you a thumping, best mate or not._
> 
> _"So I had said before that everyone was crying instead of laughing. That wasn't entirely true. Some of the family had a good laugh today… but only some. Of everybody, George has obviously taken this the worst. We all miss Fred, but George is really broken up, being twins and all. After everything that happened in the last year and at Hogwarts, I'm still feeling kind of numb about the whole thing. It'll probably hit me later, but for a while there, I kind of thought that George was going completely mental. He was going around talking in these half-formed thoughts, as if Fred were still there to finish for them. After a while, he just stopped talking. Then, in the middle of the funeral, George set off one of those crazy explosives of theirs -- said that Fred would have wanted it that way. 'Chaos' is putting it lightly! All I could think of was fifth year and the look on that toad woman's face as they flew off the castle grounds. It was beautiful then, and our horrified aunts, uncles, and cousins running for cover was also a sight to see. Not everyone is able to fully appreciate their sense of humor, and some people said that it was in poor taste to disrupt a funeral like that -- but he's right. Fred would have wanted it that way. I'd like to tell George that, but he's locked himself in his room again and won't come out._
> 
> _"Mum did pretty much the same thing. She locked herself in the kitchen and spent hours banging pots and pans. After a few hours of that, my cruel father sent me in to check on her. He was afraid of all the banging around. Bottom line: Mum decided that you were too thin when she saw you last, and since you couldn't be with us, she was going to send you some things. I tried to tell her that Hogwarts has plenty of food, but she went on and on about 'made with love' and 'being better'. And honestly, I'm scared of her, too, when she gets like that. Although I valiantly sampled the biscuits to make sure they were okay. But Harry, they're no good. You should owl them right back to me. I'll protect you from them. Besides, you need to watch your figure for the wedding, should you actually have knocked up my sister._
> 
> _"Which I will not stop saying until someone tells me what's really going on. See? Doesn't that make you want to tell me? Also, no one's telling me about what's happening at the school! Dad said that McGonagall intends to hold classes in the fall, but how? Hogwarts was half destroyed! Are the professors going to be able to fix it up in time? And what about Snape? Will he still be the Headmaster? Assuming, that is, that the Wizengamot doesn't have him locked up or executed for being not just a Death Eater, but Voldemort's right hand in everything. I know you said he was innocent, but I've noticed that the Ministry isn't very good about listening to you. I don't know how much sway Kingsley will have as he's only a temporary Minister. From what I've read in the papers, the popular opinion is that the people more or less want Snape's head on display, on a pike. But we all know how accurate the Prophet is._
> 
> _"It's creepy to think of you stuck at Hogwarts alone all summer with the professors. I've always sort of pictured them like vampires -- they all crawl into their coffins during the holidays and don't come back out until fall term begins. I really hope all is going well for you there, and if you need anything at all, you let us know. We'll come rescue you._
> 
> _"Everyone sends their love._
> 
> _\--Ron"_

Picking up his quill again, Harry took a deep breath, which he let out slowly. Ron had a lot of questions, and he really didn't want to answer any of them. But he did owe his friend enough so that he wouldn't worry needlessly.

> _"Ron,_
> 
> _"I was really glad to hear from you. I wanted to be there for you and your family today, and for all the others. It wasn't because I was worried for myself, but I remember how Bill's wedding went. I would never want that to happen to any of you again. McGonagall says that my staying at Hogwarts this summer is for my protection, but I know she means that it's to protect anyone who might otherwise take me in until more of the Death Eaters are rounded up._
> 
> _"Also, Ron, I care about you too much to let you sacrifice yourself for me by eating the biscuits. I shall simply have to bear this burden upon my shoulders alone. Give my love to your mum and everyone else. It was really sweet of her to think of me with so much else going on. And for what it's worth, I definitely agree. Fred would have loved to see the looks on everyone's faces._
> 
> _"The school is insanely busy right now. Your dad's right about McGonagall promising to have classes going again in the fall. Everything from the Astronomy Tower to the dungeons has at least minor damage, if not whole walls down. The teachers are on rotation: half have been allowed to go home to their families for a few weeks, then they'll return and the other half will get to see their loved ones. I'm not sure how they're going to get it all done. As for Snape, he's not doing very well. No, I take it back. After being bitten by Nagini and bleeding out all over the floor of the Shrieking Shack, he's doing remarkably well. Madam Pomfrey has been hovering around him for days, and I think it's driving him crazy. Mr. Weasley probably hasn't told you anything because Snape's condition is being kept top secret. I've been to the MoM twice already to give testimony about what happened with Voldemort, and I've probably written a dozen statements on how Dumbledore had plans within plans and how Snape was really working on our side._
> 
> _"The thing is, the only reason that Snape hasn't been dragged before the Wizengamot to have his head put on a pike is that McGonagall has insisted that he isn't well enough to be moved. Should anyone believe otherwise, they would have to turn Snape over to the authorities for a trial, and with public opinion what it is, that would be a bad thing. So they certainly would never allow Snape to be up and about, limping his way through the dungeons, making threats to start docking House points already. There was some talk of taking him to St. Mungo's, because Madam Pomfrey was afraid of some neurological damage from all the blood loss he suffered. The idea was shot down in part because Snape yelled at everyone for fussing over him and insisted that he'll be fine, but mostly because the other professors were worried about 'vigilante justice' and not being able to keep an eye on him._
> 
> _"It is my 'professional' opinion, though, that Snape will eventually be all right. Anyone as stubborn and ill-tempered as he is would never let a little thing like a tremendous amount of blood loss get in his way. If Voldemort couldn't kill him, the Wizengamot doesn't stand a chance. Although, I'm not sure about the boredom. I think not being able to do anything is going to make him snap well before he's brought to trial. McGonagall took me aside and asked me to keep an eye on him. Needless to say, he isn't very happy about that. I don't blame him. I wouldn't want me around, either, after the way I treated him, but I think we've reached an unspoken peace agreement to tolerate each other as best we can._
> 
> _"To answer your other question, Snape most likely won't be Headmaster next year. No one wants to make any decisions before the outcome of his trial, but just from talking with him, I get the feeling that he doesn't want the position. McGonagall promised to elaborate in the letters that will be sent out later in the summer._
> 
> _"Truthfully, I can't wait for all of this to be over and for school to start again. They have me up on Gryffindor Tower all by myself, and it's so quiet that I think I'm going insane. I'll sit in the window seat, looking out over the pitch, and every time there's a noise, I either expect to see Seamus coming in for a game of Exploding Snaps, or I have my wand out, thinking something's still after us."_

Harry paused in his writing. He didn't like keeping things from his friends, but at the moment, there were more important things to worry about than the fact that he was having nightmares about the war. If he smiled and said that everything was fine, his friends would know that he was lying. By saying that much and no more, he hoped that they wouldn't worry about him and would take care of themselves for once.

> _"I try not to spend too much time sitting alone, but I feel more underfoot than anything else. I helped Hagrid repair his fences and hunt down next year's subjects for Care of Magical Creatures that were hiding out in the Forbidden Forest. McGonagall has sent me out a couple of times to practice Quidditch to stay in form for next year, and Flitwick has been nice enough to play a few games of Wizard's Chess with me. I know I make him sad because I'm no match for him, and I make the wrong moves a lot. But he's really nice about it. Flitwick doesn't gloat nearly as much as you do when he beats my king into dust._
> 
> _"Lastly, PLEASE tell me that you haven't said anything stupid about me and Ginny to anyone else! I can't even begin to imagine how you got that idea. It isn't surprising that Ginny didn't want to talk to you about it, considering how sensitive you are. No, Ginny is not pregnant -- by me, or by anyone else, as far as I know. We met at the Ministry when we were both there to give statements about what happened during the battle at Hogwarts. Last year, we had talked about wanting to go out together, but we had to leave to destroy the Horcruxes before we had a chance to discuss any of what we felt or wanted out of a relationship. When I saw her the other day, I told her that I'm not in a good place in my life right now for us to try to make things work. It wasn't fair to leave her all year without a word. She tried not to show it, but she had every right to be angry at never once hearing from me to know that I was still alive to wait for. Asking her to wait even longer for me to get myself back in order is too much. We kissed, and there really wasn't anything there anymore. Maybe after everything has settled down. I'm not even sure what 'normal' is supposed to be, for my life to return to it. Either way, Ginny and I agreed that we were probably better off being friends. There's no question that you love your family, and you are my best friend, but it would mean a lot to me if you didn't press the matter. I just need some time, and from what you said, so does she._
> 
> _"Of course, if you've already teased her about being pregnant, you're probably dead and will never read this letter. On the off chance that you haven't been eviscerated, tell Hermione that I wish her luck in hunting down her parents -- and in not being grounded for life. Maybe when she comes back from Australia, she can bring you a koala to replace Scabbers._
> 
> _\--H.P."_

*****

The next time Snape woke, it was Minerva McGonagall at his bedside, not Potter. Her expression was worried and drawn, but it softened when she saw Snape looking up at her. "Good morning, Severus. You're looking remarkably well, all things considered."

"Hmm." Snape raised a hand to scrub at his face. Everything was still sore, but at least the throbbing pain had subsided enough that he was able to think. "Potter. He all right?"

"Harry is fine. He's just fine." She leaned forward to give Snape's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "He sat here with you for as long as Poppy would allow, and he was finally sent to bed on threat of a Full-Body Bind. He's been with you the whole time, keeping watch over you."

Snape frowned. "I don't need 'watching over'."

"Oh, don't be so hard on the boy." Standing, Minerva moved to pour him a glass of water before returning to his side. "He feels terrible about having misjudged you. He's not the only one."

As his dignity was already damaged beyond repair, he allowed himself to be fussed over once more in order to take greedy sips of water as Minerva tipped him up towards the glass. Once he'd drunk his fill, he was allowed to lie down again, and as before, Snape could not help letting out a sigh of relief. "If it's any consolation, it was never important that any of you trust me. In fact it was much easier for me that you didn't."

Minerva glared down at him sternly. "You are a far better person than you have ever given yourself credit for. And as your friends, we should have trusted you."

Snape thought of informing her that he didn't really consider any of the Hogwarts professors to be "friends"; however, she seemed so sincere that he kept it to himself. "Thank you for the sentiment. Do you know how Draco and his family are doing? Are they well?"

"Lucius isn't in Azkaban at the moment, if that's what you're asking." She couldn't help a wry grin at her friend's concern. For reasons that she couldn't begin to fathom, he and Lucius Malfoy had always been closer than she would have liked. Even after Voldemort had been stopped the first time, Snape had been extremely concerned over the Malfoy family's well-being. "Lucius has been at the Ministry for just over five days now. Narcissa and Draco were both released, though Draco is currently on a one-year probation."

"Probation?"

"Several of the Slytherin students were allowed to go free on the understanding that they would need to behave themselves over the next year, either in school, at home, or in some other supervised setting." Her expression suddenly became more apprehensive. "Your situation is a bit more complicated, I'm afraid."

That wasn't very comforting. "In what way?"

"The Wizengamot seems inclined to make an example of you. Kingsley is stalling them, but that will only work for so long."

Snape nodded slowly. "There's no question about it. I'm guilty of everything they've said."

"Utter nonsense!" McGonagall crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. "Even if you were, the people right now are clamoring for _revenge_ , not justice. I'm sure that given a little time, the Wizengamot will be able to think with clearer heads. In the meantime, I have absolutely no intention of letting them take you from this castle. Personally, I think that's why Potter was sitting here for so long. He was afraid that the Ministry would send someone in to drag you before the Wizengamot at any moment."

"It would be within their right."

"They have Albus's Pensieve, as well as his portrait, to examine and question, never mind the endless queue of Death Eaters, suspects, and witnesses. They have plenty to do and I will not let any of them into this castle while you're still unwell. Regardless of how long it might take for you to recover." She stood and took a moment to straighten her robes before turning back to him. "You should get some more rest, Severus. I'll let the kitchen know to bring you something light to eat. And don't worry: everything's going to be all right now."

*****

Snape pushed the remains of his breakfast idly around his plate in disinterest. Perhaps if it was spread out enough and looked picked over, Poppy would leave him alone. At least she had deigned to remove the damned leeches that had been covering his arms. While he understood their necessity, having the creatures attached to his flesh had been quite unnerving. Almost equally disturbing was the quality of food served in the Infirmary. All of it was soft, bland, and tasteless.

As if aware of his efforts at subterfuge, Madam Pomfrey entered the room. "Good morning, Severus. Are we feeling better at all? Still no appetite, I see."

"Your astonishing grasp of the obvious is only surpassed by Mr. Potter's." Giving up completely, he pushed the entire tray aside and set it on the nightstand by the bed.

Poppy frowned sternly at him but did not allow his attitude to stop her from approaching his bedside to look him over. Pulling out her wand, she passed it over him, assessing his state. "If you're feeling up to it, you have a few visitors."

"I can't imagine there being anyone here that I would want to see."

"It isn't a question of what you want, Severus." Satisfied with what she saw, Madam Pomfrey put her wand away. "The question is whether you're well enough to have visitors. If we waited on you not to have a surly disposition, we'd never get anything accomplished."

Throwing the blankets aside to rise, Snape bit back angrily, "Am I under arrest? Have I been formally charged with anything? Because if not, I have the right to ignore anyone I damned well please. I don't have to let you keep me here."

"Severus Snape, you get back into that bed right now, or so help me I'll _put_ you in it!" Her expression was stern and unwavering until Snape relented and slowly sank back down onto the edge of the mattress. "That's more like it. Now! Minerva says that the Order want to have words with you. They aren't here in an official capacity for the Ministry, which is the only reason that I'm letting them into this ward. If they become too upsetting or you begin to feel worse for their being here, let _me_ know and _I_ will remove them. Don't go blustering about trying to handle it yourself. Understand?"

After a moment of silence, Snape replied, "I understand you."

Poppy's eyes narrowed as she evaluated her patient, and she muttered something under her breath about Slytherins. "On second thought, I'm going to have Minerva sit in with them, and she can handle the lot of you."

"You don't trust me?"

"There are many things that I completely trust you to handle." She turned and headed for the door to admit his guests, adding, "Your own health is not one of them."

Once she'd pushed open the large double doors of the Infirmary, several familiar figures filed in. While Shacklebolt, Lupin, Hestia Jones, and two of the Weasley clan made their way over to where he sat, Madam Pomfrey held McGonagall back to speak with her in hushed tones.

Trying to retain as much of his dignity as possible while wearing a nightshirt and sitting on a hospital bed, Snape asked, "Has the Ministry finally tired of waiting for me to be brought before them?"

"Some days ago, yes," Shacklebolt replied, "but that's not why we're here. We felt that as a member of the Order, you might want to be kept abreast of what's been happening."

"You--" Snape's eyes narrowed as he looked the group over carefully. None had wands out, there were no Aurors -- save Kingsley, of course -- and they were all pulling up chairs to make themselves comfortable. "This is some sort of _social_ visit?"

Bill laughed, with a shrug. "You could say that, I suppose. The official story is that you're still at death's door, so partly, we wanted to see how you were doing -- off the record. But we also wanted to fill you in on what you've missed, since the fighting is far from over."

Lupin nodded. "Voldemort's remaining followers are still making a great deal of trouble for us, and there are a great deal more of them than might be expected."

That revelation caused Snape to become far more serious. "How has the Ministry been handling things?"

Arthur gave his friend's shoulder a pat as he said, "Kingsley here has been named the interim Minister for Magic, which has gone quite a long way to getting things done right."

That made a good deal of sense, Snape decided. A non-politician was far more capable of making tough decisions rather than worrying about votes or elections. It also explained why he wasn't yet in chains. "Practically his entire inner circle was here that night -- were you able to capture all of them? Who got away?"

"At the moment, the only truly high-profile Death Eater not accounted for is Antonin Dolohov," Arthur said, his mouth turning down at the corners. "Your friend Malfoy has been very cooperative in pointing out their bases of operation and safe houses."

"Arthur." Shacklebolt's voice took on a warning tone and he shook his head.

"Forgive me, but I just don't see how the Ministry could even begin to consider making a deal with someone like Malfoy!" The man's face darkened, and he glared pointedly at the floor.

With a small sigh, Shacklebolt explained for Snape's benefit. "Mr. Malfoy came to the Ministry after the battle here to explain how the Dark Lord had been threatening his family to cooperate on pain of death."

"That's entirely true," Snape replied, not caring in the slightest when Arthur focused his scowl on him instead of the floor. "Narcissa came to me last year because the Dark Lord had decided to kill Draco. That's why the boy was assigned the task of killing Dumbledore: to suffer before ultimately failing and dying in the attempt. This was to serve as a punishment for Lucius. When Draco lived through the ordeal, the Dark Lord simply moved on to torturing Lucius in other ways. Not that my word means anything to the Ministry."

Speaking more to Arthur than to Snape, Shacklebolt added, "We deliberated very carefully in this matter. The information he's been able to give us has been far more profitable than his incarceration would have been. And as has been said, the Malfoys haven't participated in any of these latest attacks -- against us, or against Muggles. That's why we're cooperating and you know it, Arthur."

Trying to move the conversation away from the awkward topic of the Malfoys, Lupin spoke up. "You'll probably be seeing a lot of Harry around here. With the number of the Dark Lord's supporters still at large, we didn't think it would be safe for him to be out in the public eye this summer, so he's staying here until the school year starts." He smiled ruefully at Snape. "I know the two of you have never really gotten along, but do try not to kill each other, all right?"

"You're joking." Snape had to suppress a groan when Lupin's smile only broadened, and he shook his head. "I see. You've decided to forego the Wizengamot and simply punish me in this way."

Arthur bristled again. "I told them he'd be perfectly safe at the Burrow with us!"

"Frankly, after a year on his own, fighting Voldemort, I think Harry's able to take care of himself," Bill said, resting a calming hand on his father's shoulder.

Snape scoffed. "Potter is hardly capable of caring for himself. He understands virtually nothing about human nature or how to keep his fool mouth shut." He scowled back at Arthur just as fiercely as he was being scowled at.

After a moment, Arthur's face softened from anger to curiosity. "It's not an act, is it? You really don't like the boy-- or think anything of him, do you?"

"I value intelligence, diligence, and forethought, and Mr. Potter has done little but prove time and again that he is incapable of doing more than blundering into a situation and hoping for the best. The rest of the world may applaud him for being earnestly well-meaning, but that matters very little to me. He has potential, but he squanders it, content to flail about haphazardly, relying on others to keep him afloat." He paused to catch his breath. "In truth, part of the blame lies with Albus, and with all of us, for keeping Potter in the dark about so many things over the years. But if he'd had any sense of self-preservation, or even a fraction of Miss Granger's thirst for knowledge--"

"You might want to show just a little more gratitude," Arthur snapped, shrugging off Bill's attempt to quiet him. "That 'well-meaning' young man has been the loudest voice of support keeping you alive and out of prison!"

Only half aware that he was doing so, Snape shot to his feet, shaking with rage. "I never asked him to!" He was so angry that he didn't notice Poppy and Minerva hurrying across the room. "I've _never_ asked anything of Potter except that he behave himself in school and stop doing stupid things that will get himself and his friends killed! He has no need to waste his time standing up for me. What I did for Albus-- I never expected it to exonerate me; I never expected to be excused from any of it because _I am guilty_. Whatever charges the Wizengamot can think up, I am guilty of, and more. All of the blood on my hands isn't simply going to go away because Harry Potter stands up and says he thinks I'm a good person. I'm not, and I never have been, so I really don't see the point in delaying a trial. Azkaban or execution -- the waiting is actually more frustrating."

Not having the strength to remain standing any longer, Snape sank back onto the edge of the bed, still trembling from his outburst. The others were too stunned to say anything, though eventually, McGonagall was able to ask quietly, "If you don't care about what happens to you, why cast so many spells in order to save yourself? Why keep fighting to stay alive?"

Snape covered his face with his hand. "Not for me. The Dark Lord still lived. Whatever I might think of Potter, no one deserved that. I've been following him for seven years, trying to keep him alive. Even Dumbledore would have let him--" He stopped, unable to get the words out, how the much beloved Headmaster would have willingly sacrificed the Chosen One if it meant cleaning up the mistake he had made with Riddle so many years ago. "Someone needed to look after Potter instead of encouraging him to get himself killed. Everyone always expects so much of him."

"Severus…"

An awkward moment of silence stretched out awkwardly until Madam Pomfrey clapped her hands loudly. "All right, you lot. My patient needs his rest, and I'm sure you have matters to attend to as well."

"She's right," Hestia said, checking her pocketwatch. "If we don't get back to the Ministry soon, they're going to send out a search party for us."

Shacklebolt stood along with the others, and stepped closer to Snape. "Be patient a little longer, my friend. Time allows for perspective."

Before Snape could reply, the doors opened again, and Filch limped his way hurriedly across the room. McGonagall met him halfway. They exchanged words, looking over at Snape as they did so. McGonagall frowned, but eventually nodded. Filch shuffled out and she made her way back over to the group. "Severus, it seems that you have another guest."

"Absolutely not!" Madam Pomfrey turned to her with exasperation written plainly across her features. "He needs to rest."

"That's true, but young Mr. Malfoy is here and is apparently quite agitated. The official story is, after all, that Severus is hovering at death's door." To Snape, she asked, "Would you like him to come in?"

Despite feeling utterly drained, Snape nodded. Draco probably wasn't the only one who was worried. Perhaps he could send a message home with the boy to his parents. 

Madam Pomfrey, however, wasn't going to make it easy for him. "Five minutes, that's all," she stated authoritatively. "And the rest of you, out, out! And you-- back onto that bed, and you _stay_ there!"

"We'll speak again," Shacklebolt said, turning with the others to leave. As they filed out to floo back to the Ministry, they passed Draco in the hall. 

The boy stared back at them in wide-eyed surprise, clearly not having expected anyone else to be visiting the Headmaster. "You're not supposed to be here," he challenged, puffing out his chest and glaring hatefully at the group. "Professor Snape is supposed to be safe here -- you're not allowed to touch him!"

Hestia waved the others on, pausing to stand in front of Draco while they passed. "We weren't here to harm him. I promise, Severus is still quite safe. The Wizengamot won't be allowed near him until Poppy and Minerva are satisfied that he's alright. He may not be well, but I'm sure seeing you will make him feel better. He could use some cheering up."

Draco stared at her skeptically, as if trying to read through her words to her true meaning. In response, Hestia only smiled at him and reached out to ruffle his hair, even as he tried to slap her hand away. "Go on in," she laughed, "he's waiting for you."

With his back pressed up against the stone wall behind him, Draco slid his way past her, keeping as much distance as possible between them. "Don't forget what you said," he replied, trying to sound threatening. "You leave him alone."

Inside the Infirmary wasn't any better, only this time, it was McGonagall and Pomfrey waiting for him. "I was told that I could see him?" He hadn't meant for it to come out as a question, so he scowled instead.

"Five minutes," Pomfrey stated emphatically. "Severus isn't well and doesn't need any more excitement."

Despite the nurse's words, McGonagall's expression was a little more understanding. "What she means is, try not to let him get himself too worked up. Go on. He's waiting for you. We'll be in Madam Pomfrey's office if either of you should need anything."

Draco nodded obediently, waiting for the two women to adjourn to Pomfrey's office off the main floor of the wardroom before approaching. Snape was sitting on the nearest bed in the row, watching him as he drew nearer. He had known the headmaster his entire life, and yet over the course of the last week, everything Draco thought that he had known proved to be a lie. Snape wasn't the man that he had been led to believe he was, and Draco no longer knew what to make of his godfather.

"Good morning, Uncle Severus," he greeted tightly, using the epithet from his childhood to see how he would be received. 

Trying to put the boy at ease, Snape replied, "I'm glad to hear that you and your family are doing well. I've been worried about you."

"You've been worried about _us_?" Draco gaped at him incredulously before falling into one of the chairs still pulled over to Snape's bedside. "Do you have any idea what people have been saying about you? Word is that you've already got one foot in the grave. Mother has been crying, certain that the only reason you hadn't been dragged before the Ministry already was because you were here, dying."

"I'm truly sorry for making her worry. Believe me, it was not my idea for me to be kept locked in here. Please let her know that her concern is appreciated." Speaking with Draco was proving to be an even greater challenge than suffering through the Order's prattle. They might have been irritating, making him unbelievably angry, but Draco was making him feel guilty and sentimental, which was far worse. "As long as we're speaking of rumors, I'm told that things are going well for Lucius?"

Draco was silent for a moment before nodding. "Father is confident that he'll be acquitted and cleared of all the wrongful charges against him. He's been kept at the Ministry, supposedly for his own protection. We've been told that some people are worried that if he were let out, the other Death Eaters would come after him. I suppose the Ministry is preferable to Azkaban. I guess Hogwarts is, too."

Reaching out, Snape put a hand on his godson's arm. "Hopefully, his time there will be brief. It couldn't have been pleasant for any of you to have the Dark Lord residing in Malfoy Manor against your wishes. I'm sure Lucius is eager to return home and begin restoring it."

"Do you really mean that?" The boy was visibly shaking as he looked at Snape with uncertainty.

"Lucius may be many things, but he's still my friend. Nor would I wish for you or Narcissa to be without him. I can't imagine what you must think of me, but I want you to know that I do still care about you all very much." 

Hearing his words, Draco appeared as if an incredible weight had been lifted from him. Despite the discomfort it caused, Snape shifted over on the narrow hospital bed to make room for Draco to sit down beside him. 

After only a moment's hesitation, Draco slid out of his seat to move next to Snape. Drawing his legs up to his chest, Draco hid his face. The hand that came to rest on his shoulder was both awkward and comforting, causing a twisted jumble of emotions, much like everything else in his life. When he'd been younger, his "uncle" had been an important part of his life, visiting his family often and telling him stories of Hogwarts. Once Draco had received his own letter, propriety had demanded that their relationship shift to one more appropriate for school. It seemed that their dynamic was bound to change again with the Dark Lord gone, but Draco didn't know how or what would happen.

"I'm proud of you," Snape said softly, bringing his hand to rest on Draco's back. "I truly am."

Draco wasn't able to hold back any longer, and he let out a short series of hiccupping sobs before clamping his mouth shut. He ran one hand through his hair, grabbing a handful and tugging in hopes that the pain would distract him enough to keep from crying outright. "Don't know why you would be," he managed to say without stuttering too badly.

"Gryffindors will make long, posturing speeches about right and wrong," Snape replied, not sure what to do or say to make his godson feel better. "Actually being able to distinguish the two can be next to impossible at times. Believe me, I know."

"I used to think I knew." When Draco turned his head to rest his cheek atop one knee, his eyes were red and wet with the tears that he was fighting back fiercely. Reaching out one hand hesitantly, he let his fingers brush along the sleeve covering Snape's left arm. When he wasn't stopped, he pushed the nightshirt back to reveal the skull and snake that matched the mark on his father's arm as well as his own. "I used to be so certain of what you and Father wanted of me."

Snape remained silent for several moments, watching as Draco traced his fingers along the faint outline of the Dark Mark that remained branded onto his skin. It was as if the boy were still fascinated by it even while being repulsed by what it stood for. "It isn't a question of what _we_ want for you. You're in Slytherin, not Hufflepuff. You need to first determine what it is that you want for _yourself_ , then don't let anyone get in the way of that. We're cunning, ambitious, and have high aspirations. There's nothing wrong with that, no matter what others might say."

"All these years..." Draco withdrew his hand to settle it on his own arm where his shirtsleeve hid the Dark Mark. "You've been working for Dumbledore all this time. How could you kill him? I don't understand."

"It's quite simple, really. You were more important to me, and he was dead already. We both knew it. Dumbledore had actually died the summer between your fifth and sixth year, but he was too stubborn to realize it because he was a spiteful old bastard who refused to kick off without a fight. " Snape reached out to show Draco the lattice of light scars that went up his hand and under the sleeve of his nightshirt. "I made a promise to your mother that I would help you do what the Dark Lord wanted, but I never had any intention of letting you kill Dumbledore. Murder is far too heavy a burden for someone so young to have to live with. Dumbledore and I had agreed that if it came down to it, I would be the one to kill him. In the end, he wasn't asking me to help him. He was asking me to help _you_."

Draco took Snape's hand in his own and turned it over as he examined the crisscrossing pattern of scars caused by the Unbreakable Vow. "Aunt Bella kept saying that you couldn't be trusted. That you were hiding your allegiance to Dumbledore from the Dark Lord."

"As disturbed and demented a woman as she was, Bellatrix was also irritatingly skeptical and distrustful of those she perceived to be in a better position than herself. While I feel no great sorrow at her passing, I'm sorry for the loss of your aunt."

"She never once tried to help me." Draco wrapped his arms once more around his legs. "Even when her own sister was being threatened, she didn't do anything to try to help us. You did, though. It almost got you killed, and we're not even actually related."

Exhaling deeply, Snape let his head fall back against the wall behind him and closed his eyes. He was still very much aware of how close to death he had come. "For nearly twenty years, my life hasn't been my own, all because I made a mistake. One lapse in judgement, and I'm expected to pay for it for the rest of my life. I couldn't let the same thing happen to you. We may not be related, but Lucius is the best friend I've ever had. I'll always do whatever I can to keep you safe."

Draco started to reply, but Snape continued speaking, more to himself than to the boy beside him. "I suppose I should be proud that the Dark Lord never suspected or questioned my loyalty despite protests from Bellatrix, but to be killed by Nagini? There's no dignity in that. Bleeding there on the floor of that despicable shack, all I could think was that Potter was far too incompetent to take care of himself. There was no chance that he could take on the Dark Lord alone and be victorious. I had twenty years' experience on Potter, and yet I was going to be killed by the Dark Lord's _pet_. And to make the utter humiliation of it all even worse, my assistance wasn't even necessary. I could have quietly slipped off into oblivion, and it wouldn't have mattered. Potter probably killed the Dark Lord with boredom from all his inane blather about love and feelings. There's some sort of cosmic injustice to it all."

"It would have mattered to me if you'd died." Draco shook his head, looking confused as he added, "For some reason, Potter seems to have decided that it would have mattered to him, too. I can't imagine what it's going to be like having to put up with his smug face at school every day. Assuming they even let me come back."

"The wardens haven't exactly let me out of this room," he said, pausing to shoot a hateful glare at Pomfrey's office door. "From what I saw, though, I'd be surprised if they were able to open the school in time for fall term."

"If they did, I suppose you wouldn't be the headmaster anymore, would you?"

"Only if I could perform my duties from Azkaban. My own trial will be coming up any time."

"No!" Draco shot to his feet, looking down on Snape imploringly. "They can't send you to Azkaban! You were working for Dumbledore the whole time! If my father can make a deal with the Ministry, then surely--"

The sound of Pomfrey's door slamming open cut him off mid-sentence. 

"Mr Malfoy!" The irritated tone of her voice was enough to make the boy's eyes widen as he fell silent. "Were you not instructed to be brief and to make certain that Severus remained calm while you were here?"

Before Draco could reply, Snape beat him to it. "Oh, for the love of-- Will you leave me alone, woman? I feel fine! Surely you and Minerva _must_ have more important things to do, so why don't you find one of them and leave us be!"

"Five more minutes, Mr Malfoy, then I think you had best be on your way."

"Stop hovering and find yourself some occupation." Snape continued to glare balefully until Pomfrey finally relented and stepped back into her office, shutting the door behind her. Despite his protests, he knew that he was in a worse condition that he cared to admit. Even so, he forced himself to sit up a little straighter for Draco's benefit. "If I have to put up with this much longer, I think I'll turn myself in to the Wizengamot."

Draco sank back down onto the edge of the bed, his mouth turned down in what could only be called a childish pout. "That's not funny."

"Regardless of what happens to me, I'll speak with Minerva. I'll make certain that you're allowed back, if that's what you want. Have you thought about what classes you're going to take?"

With a shrug, Draco replied, "I assume they'll all be different from this last year. Even if they do keep you on, I doubt they'll be teaching Dark Arts, right?"

"Probably not." As he looked at Draco, he couldn't help a pang of sorrow that he wouldn't get to see the sort of man his godson grew into. "When we talked during fifth year orientation, you mentioned working for the Ministry. Is that still something you're interested in doing?"

Draco gave another half-hearted shrug. "That's what Father wants me to do, but there isn't really anything else that I'm interested in doing. I don't know..."

"Forget what Lucius wants. Your life isn't his. Ignore what he wants for you, what I want, what your teachers want. What is it that _you_ enjoy doing?"

For several moments, Draco sat there in silence, not having any sort of answer to give him. "It's kind of stupid, but last year, I really enjoyed working on the Vanishing Cabinet. As much as I hated the circumstances, and I was terrified the entire time that it wouldn't work! I just-- Fixing it was fun, and it was really exciting when I finally got it working."

Snape nodded in response. "Then let's start there. I would recommend Advanced Magical Theory. Not many students take it, so it would be more independent study than a taught course. You would select a topic of interest, such as the function and repair of magical artifacts, then a professor would oversee your studies. Over the year, you would either write a series of essays or come up with some sort of practical projects for your grade rather than sitting an exam."

"That's brilliant!" For the first time in longer than Snape could recall, Draco's face lit up with a genuinely excited smile. "That sounds loads better than Muggle Studies. Why haven't we been doing classes like that all along?"

"It wouldn't help you to pass your OWLs or NEWTs. You should probably continue with Charms and Transfiguration. Both will be helpful, and Minerva teaches Conjuring in seventh year, if I'm not mistaken."

"So, are there any other fun classes that you all don't tell the students about?"

"Some have found Ghoul Studies to be more fun than Arithmancy while being a touch more challenging than Divinations." When Draco's face scrunched up in an expression of disdain, Snape paused to consider the elective courses that had been taught in the past. "If enough students request it, Minerva teaches an elective course on Alchemy. You'd have to ask her about the details, but generally, it focuses on Transmutation involving the elements, and it's a bit more intensive than the usual seventh year course."

After considering it a moment, Draco asked hopefully, "Are there any andvanced electives that _you_ teach?"

Letting out a small sigh of defeat, Snape yielded to the fact that Draco simply wasn't going to accept the inevitable. Rather than correcting him, he replied, "Obviously Advanced Potions. Occasionally, I have co-taught an elective that you might find interesting, although I believe I have only offered it two or three times."

"Why is that?"

"Because not many students want to take Ancient Studies with Professor Binns. He teaches a lecture component twice a week while I handle the practical magic component."

Draco carefully evaluated him through narrowed eyes, his gaze suspicious. "I don't think you would teach something dreadfully awful, which is what Binns's classes are. What's the payoff?"

"His lectures cover the magics of Mesopotamia, Egypt, India, China, and the Greco-Roman era on topics from... I don't know..." He had to think back, as it had been a number of years since the last pair of Ravenclaws had signed up for it. "Earth magic, blood magic, soul magic, ley lines, ancient curses, wordless casting, casting without a wand."

"I could put up with Binns for that. Would you be alright with that? Teaching a class if I were the only one in it?"

"I suppose not, and Binns has never complained about teaching a course before."

"Can you really cast without a wand? I mean, more than just a simple _Accio_ spell?"

"Of course. In roughly six thousand years of recorded wizarding history, the wand as we know it today is a relatively new invention." He offered Draco a wry grin as he added, "That said, they do make magic a hell of a lot easier."

Draco's gaze drifted over to Pomfrey's office, and his voice lowered as he said, "Then you'll probably be wanting this back." He took Snape's wand out from inside his jacket and held it out. "Father lifted it from the Great Hall in all the confusion, and he wanted me to make sure you got it back. He was afraid that the others would confiscate it or break it."

Reaching over, Snape pulled the boy into a hug. "Let your parents know that I truly do appreciate everything they've done for me. They've been good friends to me. And if you're willing, there is one favor that I'd like to ask of you, Draco."

"Anything."

Snape also looked to Pomfrey's door for any suspicious movement within. "I would be most grateful if you would create a small distraction," he replied before touching his wand to the blanket that was covering his bed. Immediately, it began to shrink and draw in on itself until it became a light grey dressing gown, which he began pulling on over his nightshirt. "Even a few minutes would be enough, but I need to get out of here for a while before those two drive me to homicide."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing serious. Go in there and ask Minerva about her Alchemy course." With a softly spoken word, his wand began to change in size and shape until it had taken on the form of an ebony walking stick, which he used to pull himself up until he was standing. "Who knows, with a little luck, I may even make it long enough to find some of my own clothes to put on."

*****

**Author's Note:**

> I will update as quickly as I can churn things out for my beta to cry over and correct. Fair warning, I'm still in med school, so the going is slow around exams. I'll shoot for one update a month, more during vacations, boards permitting. I've currently got about twenty chapters ranging from outlines to almost finished. It will take some time, but I hope that, in the end, you'll all have enjoyed the ride. :)  
> -Ara


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